Dreams of Mars

I am wracked with such a deep longing to be in your arms.
And even though we never say it now…
Even though I’m not sure if I love you anymore.

I am sick of writing about you.
I don’t know whether to hate you or love you.

I. am. sick.

I am hopeless, meaning I have none left.
I am giving up too early, and that’s okay with me.
I have no more tears to cry over you. (or hold back.)
That’s fine, its all wrong anyway.

Everyone I ever wanted, doesn’t matter anymore.
None of it matters.
It didn’t happen then, it won’t happen now.

Pessimist.
Paranoia.

I will never appreciate what I can, when I will strive for what I can’t.

Part of me wants to keep going and wishing.
And part of me says.. just stop it.

You’ll be the one they’re ashamed of.
Just as he was.

They’re all fucked.

Denying it is harder than accepting it.
But not in the long run.

Distorted poetry.
I haven’t written any poetry in a while, though I hardly think that qualifies.
Eh. I feel less depressed.

I feel a heavy weight inside me.
And I don’t like it.

Today will be a good day; I feel it in my bones.
(That, and a chill.)

I watched a Robert Englund movie this morning, which is the absolute best way to fall asleep. Absolutely.
I wish I could marry him. Not so much as a celebrity crush thing, but more of an ‘admire forever’ thing. (Kinda like I feel about Vincent Price, but I lack any lust for Vincent. Well, maybe there’s a little. :wink:)
I just want to have a 10 hour conversation with Mr. Englund about his philosophies, his acting, horror… That is one of my greatest wishes in life, and it has been since I was ten or eleven.

I feel obsessive and rambly. Ugh.

This song isn’t as good as I thought it would be.
Poor Theory of a Deadman.

I keep looking for you, in everyone else’s face. You don’t love me like I want you to, but you treat me like I want you to. Maybe I think that because I grew up on it, in a way? What if I don’t like everything you do? What if its all a lie?

Fuck.

…is the most amazing dog I could ask for.

I was hyper, and super bouncy after getting back from And Then There Were None, which was FANTASTIC. But anyway, Gramma seemed annoyed by my energy, and so I went outside to see my darling. And I just started running, and then she started running. It was wonderful. (She almost ‘ran over’ a toad.)

Aah, I feel so.. full of nothing.
I have nothing to write about.
Therefore I feel empty.

I want, with my whole heart, right now.. to be an FBI agent.
And I have since I was in the seventh grade, off and on.
But! There is no such thing as the ‘X-Files’ or any sort of paranormal investigation. However, there’s Investigative Specialist, which is similar. Gramma’s really excited about this idea, and she wants me to go to the training camp next year.

Okay. So.
Cryptozoology.. FBI.. Writer.. And those two things you told me I should look into, which I’m not.. Because you’re weird. But not really. And sometimes, I want to be a showgirl, but I’m a bit too modest. Unless it wasn’t topless, then I could totally do it.

I don’t know. Sometimes, I’m so afraid to grow up.
And then I just want to die, simply so I don’t have to grow up.

And fuck, I hate bugs. Except moths.
Moths are wonderful.

K.

I’m on a hardcore Evanescence kick, and I really don’t like it.
But everytime I change artists, I end up singing it.. Maybe Tori will save me.

There’s nothing to drink here right now, and I am so thirsty and slushie commercials are playing.

I want.. South Park. Pretty badly.
But I’m too lazy right now, to get up, turn my dvd player on, dig out the case and disc, and put it in, switch screens, and press three buttons.
But wait! I have the movie DVRed! Win!
(There are ELEVEN SEASONS on DVD! Holy fuck.)

God, I’m so tired.

No cryptic messages here.
Check back later.

Make it easy, make this easy.

My heart is a fickle mess – a muddled, fickle mess.
As all Geminis are supposed to be..
It makes me restless, frustrated, and I’m not sure what, or whom, I want, really.
Maybe once someone captures my heart – yet again – it’ll be easier.

I had a dream about you; you saved my life.
You loved me. Its terrible, just awful, to think about.
Maybe one day, I’ll end up with someone like you.

You called the other day, and we kinda made plans?
So thanks for not answering the phone.
But you’re a busy guy, I totally understand.

I long to be like you,
Lie cold in the ground like you.
There’s room inside for two and I’m not grieving for you,
I’m coming for you.

I’m bored with this post already.

I don’t want to feel like this.

Every return equals someone else.

Yes, darling, I saw your bulletin.
I’m sorry if I don’t comment on it, but I love you; I will always love you.
And I want you. Who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks.

I keep thinking about what you said, I haven’t stopped since the day it happened, I may be over it, but it did shatter something inside me, and I can’t put it back together.

I have given up on you, this situation. I love you, Mister, but nothing will ever come of it. I am not strong enough for you.. You may think I’m the right one (doubtful), but there always been a baby raincloud. You could never deal with me.

I tore you from my walls today. Maybe I won’t be so bitter.
I’m putting Andy Warhol in your place.. that is, if my indecision settles.

You were in a bad mood earlier. And it irritated me.
I wish I could talk to you, but I don’t want a side-dish of religion..
Not yours.

I feel like crying, and I don’t know why.

It’s so awkward talking to you, and I adore you so much.. but I know it isn’t right.
Try as I might, it could never be right. Give up, heart, give up.

So much pressure on my eyes..

I really want to watch An American Tail.
But only because of Miss Kitty. She’s beautiful.

Live without the sunlight,
Live without your heartbeat.
I can’t live within you.

I feel alone.

I made two new ringtones today.
One for the ever-lovely Samantha, and the other for…
(I don’t know why I don’t like saying his name in blog posts – I just don’t.)

I want to go have a Hey Arnold! marathon until I fall asleep.
I think I shall.

Goodnight.
Goodnight to one and all.

x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x♥x

You promised me the ending would be clear
You’d let me know when the time was now
Don’t let me know when you’re opening the door
Stab me in the dark, let me disappear

Memories that flutter like bats out of hell
Stab you from the city spires
Life wasn’t worth the balance
Or the crumpled paper it was written on

Don’t let me know we’re invisible
Don’t let me know we’re invisible

Hot cash days that you trailed around
Cold cold nights under chrome and glass
Led me down a river of perfumed limbs
Sent me to the streets with the good time girls

Don’t let me know we’re invisible
Don’t let me know we’re invisible

We could dance, dance, dance through the fire
Dance, dance, dance through the fire

Feed me no lies
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Breathe through the years
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Bring me the disco king
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Dead or alive
Bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king

Spin-offs with those who slept like corpses
Damp morning rays in the stiff back clubs
Killing time in the ’70s
Smelling of love through the moist winds
Don’t let me know when you’re opening the door
Close me in the dark, let me disappear
Soon there’ll be nothing left of me
Nothing left to release

Dance, dance, dance through the fire
Dance, dance, dance through the fire
Feed me no lies
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Breathe through the years
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Bring me the disco king
I don’t know about you, I don’t know about you
Breathe through the years
Dead or alive, bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king, bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king, bring me the disco king
Bring me the disco king, bring me the disco king

Bring Me The Disco King © David Bowie