(no subject)

There are about a thousand things I could say about this past weekend, but none that could fully convey my true emotions. I am devastated, in ways I never thought possible. Though my feelings cannot be articulated, I need to express them somehow, but I'm not sure what way. It's a mixture of feeling completely enveloped by love, and being on the verge of tears. I never knew what SYF was until this weekend, and it's changed me in ways I never expected. I can only focus on not being sad for friends who are moving on, but to be satisfied with the time I have left. I don't know what else to say. I love you all.

(no subject)

Yeah. I almost forgot about livejournal. Thank god I did, because I would've undoubtedly posted numerous times in the past couple months as to how completely shitty my life is and how depression has swallowed me whole. But I didn't. So whatever.



This weather just makes me angry. It's an illusion to the approach of summer. It's still fuckin' January for fuck sake. I love the summer and I want it here now, but don't lie to me and try to make me think it isnt still five months away.


I don't see any of my friends anymore. They put the band back together without me. I have too much scar tissue on my back to feel the stabs anymore.

At least the high school swim season is almost over. Then my body can stop being sore and I can get some rest. Maybe my grades will go up. Who knows.

Midterms make me nervous. Especially when I realize I know absolutely nothing.

I wish more people were awake to enjoy weekend mornings. When I'm older I'm going to put a comfortable chair outside on the fire escape of the apartment I live in, and wake up at dawn to view the sunrise of a sober Sunday. Or in this case, Monday.

Saturday was good I guess. I feel kind of embarrassed because I'm sure I was a drunken fool. But then again I always am, so people should learn to expect it. Bitches.

I think I lost my journal/poetry book. Makes me sad. I guess I'll have to get a new one. Good thing I made that blogspot shit. 

Anyway, I have a train to catch in twenty minutes. It's been fun, livejournal.



(no subject)

My great-grandmother died so I'm currently in Buffalo for her funeral. Lately life has been a series of sporadic and spontaneous fits of depression and anxiety. I had originally concluded that these had been products of the amount of pressure that bottles up inside of me from school and swimming and such. But today, after talking to my older sister, I learned that she experienced similar panic attacks about life and the world. She told me that it's genetic, my dad had it bad when he was a teenager, and she had it pretty bad around sophomore/junior year. She referred to it as "Dear Realism". She says its an anxiety disorder, and that if I talk to my parents about it, they can probably perscribe something for me. The thing is, these panic attacks and fits of depression stem from the recurring notion in my mind that I suddenly suspect that the world around me isn't real, and that everything I see and am a part of is a product of my mind, made up to make myself feel better. But this can also result in the idea that I can do anything I want to and it won't matter because this reality revolves around me. I hope none of you think of me differently, I really do know you exist. Kinda. But they make me really anxious. It happens a lot, and sometimes I can't sleep at night. My sister says that it can be triggered by smoking weed, which would make sense because I've been doing a good amount of that lately and the symptoms have been getting worse. But all in all, this talk made me feel really good, like I wasn't alone in how I was thinking and feeling. Half the time I can't decipher whether I could be a genius or I'm just fuckin' crazy. I'm glad it's genetic, because now I'm not alone. I'm debating whether I should go on medication for it. I think it skipped my brother though. I just feel bad for the possibility of my siblings going through what I am now. I just can't make sense of the world, but tonight made everything a little bit clearer.

It's my birthday a week from Monday. It's Halloween Tuesday. Let me know if any of you would like to do anything with me, I'm fairly sure I'd be delighted.
  • Current Music
    Bones (it's actually good. kinda.)

(no subject)

So now my life basically revolves around the three s's. School, swim, sleep. I have 6am practice twice a week, 8am practice on Sundays, and 5:30pm practices three times a week, as well as a meet every Saturday afternoon. This leaves me physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I'm barely getting by in my classes and have absolutely no energy for any of my writing.
I'm always really sad and tired. I don't mean that in any kind of stereotypically emo way. I'm just really actually sad and tired.
  • Current Music
    padraic my prince

first poem in a while

In the attic, I would wait
for my angel to appear
as night fell in day's wake
so dark, and so dear

Soon smiles arose to my lips
in the act of amber liquors, draining
the warmth of a poison whiskey kiss
for my angel, I still sat waiting

Before long she appeared to me
I spoke, "I am your poet, muse, held in your trance.
trapper in your gaze, and longing to see
I am yours to save, wash away my sins."

and I wrote of her beauty on the attic floor
until the ink in my pen ran dry
then I wrote with blood drawn from the purest veins
until I could bleed no more

"Words, words." the angel replied,
"all this love you have, boy,
it will burn you from the inside,
your passion will not create, but destroy."

"Stay with me, angel!" I began to plead,
"stay and you shall neither want nor need."
But from the attic window, I could see
that the sky had begun to bleed.

and then the angel was gone

(no subject)

I'm almost certain I'm enjoying life more than almost any of you right now.

Fordham starts t-10 days.

I'm not sure if I'm going to go to SYF this year. I may.






I regret what happened last winter more than most of you might think. I'm a terrible person, I know that, but if I could take back what I did, I would. I'm sorry. Half of me wants to make amends, set everything as right as I possibly can, but I'm not sure if I will. And I can't explain to you why.
  • Current Music
    The Drinkers Themselves