that difficult?

to wake up once, not sweating about it. not smelling my bed sheets and thinking of how i need to wash them, and wash all this away. wake up once, when i want to, not because i have to. it'd be nice to live for a change instead of playing the part of the fool in this play i've written. and i jest and stumble and all for laughs, just to delude the fact of what's really going on. which is always the same. by now i should be able to grab my shoulders and pulls myself down. i should be able to look at things the same way i always did, but i can't. i pray for rain every single day, just so i can sleep better, with the thunder threatening to take the silence away. the silence that seemingly lets me sleep sounder. it doesn't. the silencer just let's me think louder, louder than i'm used to and i can't deny it anymore, or what's i've been anymore. for once, i wish i was invincible, maybe i could pretend, but this time i want it to be real. i keep falling, and no one's ever there to catch me. and if they weren't i'd convince them to just drop me again. falling. that's all i do, except for the time i take off to fall asleep and dream horribly great things. always the same, and when i wake up, i wish i could just kill them all away. damn me being human, i just want to be something different for once, something unattainable, something forgettable.

o em gee, please.

i want a muziki segawa to my sho fukamachi
i want someone to protect with my guyver unit

fight or flight?

i fly, but for some reason i decided to fight...

isn't this fucking exciting

someone keep me company and curl up next to me while i fall asleep, in your arms.

the sky gloes

ha ah ha ha ha ha ha happy? not likely
not likely at all

it's an art form, blogging that is, and it has everything to do with nothing

so i'm sure you imagine yourself being round abouts with a beverage in hand, maybe getting some food. but, oh, i think not. i'd rather radiate myself with flashing images completely obsolete and in the shadow, never knowing when i'll open my mouth and say your name again. i'd rather not think about it, the time at hand, or the time that has been handed. i look forward of course, to this and that, but i eventually find my eyes on the ground again. that's where they'll stay for a while, i guess. and good for me, because i deserve nothing more but a brief infatuation, one that burns out quicker than a fickle flame dancing on a birthday candle wick. and the justice, i eluded it for so long, but now, it has caught me by the throat and the vengeance it's delivering is hard and relentless, like a bear that mauls for sport.
i got the chlorine in my eyes, joe, i got the chlorine in my eyes!
so where is he hiding, i know he's still alive, somewhere in here. i see everything, he's sending what he's got, like a tiny rebellion lead to kill me. but alas, unless he's saving his trump car, i assure you, there's nothing you can do to stop me. i'll kill everything he's got. flip-flops as hand grenades and papers towels as body bags, you're killing your best men. at for what, hatred? no, i think not. b/c we were once comrades, yes and you, my fiercest foe, are trying to awaken me with your green fanged battle cry. but i declare, sir, i am awake, and it is you that are evil. i will use my mega smasher to evaporate every last part of your being from this existence, and that my dearest friend, is a promise and a half.
my nostrils are dry! dammit! the chlorine, joe, the chlorine!
and now, blog readers across the board, i am obligated by my own words to go downstairs and watch a romantic comedy with my greatest of friends, and my loneliest of allies. basically just hanna, greg & eric, and jason if he's not playing final fantasy. alright bitches. hit me up, ya hear.

if porn were candy, i'd sell it to little kids

i haven't seen spider x in a while, wonder what he's planning. and when he's planning to take me down...

well know, epiphany

in the wake of my self loathing it's become clearly apparent exactly how much of a bastard i've been to anyone who's cared about me, and for that handful of whom i'm talking about, i'm sorry and i wish i knew a way to make it up to each of you.

(enter elipses here, and get a surprised reaction)

so they've busted out, i don't know how but those things are loose in the city. who knows what kind of bloodlust they have and what kind of chaotic carnage will ensue. all i know is there's no turning back, this is an edge we're all standing on, it's us or them. i'm sure they've already claimed many victims, i just hope to god that someone knows how to dispatch those ghouls or this could become an outbreak that's an epidemic.
aim for the head. kill the brain, kill the ghoul.
and in other news, you guys suck. no one ever wants to come over except robert gregory and katie, too many sausages in the apartment and it's starting to smell a little like testosterone and x-mas if you know what i'm saying.
oh yeah, and there's a newer run of this anime call Guyver, it's fucking awesome, i've been spacing out to it lately, and i'm enveloped in it's premium story line and character development, it's better than the older OVA not just b/c of the animation, but the depth into which it goes. plus there's not a lot of shitty voice actors killing it. anywho, i shall be off, back into the world of the guyver units and zombie survival handbooks, not to mention comic books and movies.
other updates include, i've seen eric's huge, world smashing testicles more time than i can count tonight, and i've also discovered that spider x is trying to rise up and send hired mercinaries to off me and my crew. well let me tell you something spider x, i won't go out that easily, you'll need more men, send me the best you've got, send me your strongest machine, i'll fight the fight my brother fought, and with one power shot you'll see what vengeance means, here, now will end with me.

so i saw...

nacho libre (BY MYSELF!), and it was good. not amazing but good. then when i was walking out this guy was like, it fucking sucked napoleon dynamite was way better. and i wanted to turn around and say something along the lines of:
you stupid shit, they're two different movies, it's like comparing king kong with dead alive, or legend with alien, just b/c it's the same director you can't expect the same fucking thing. plus the guy's a mormon, give him a break.
and then i would've called upon the awesome powers of billy connolly to ravage the poor lad, and destroy the mall. but i decided to just bite my lip b/c i was frustrated enough being at a mall full of fucking teeny boppers. ack.

a stupid observation...

i'm not saying this just b/c i'm depressed or hurt by anything that's happened, but more b/c i've been seeing this in other people's stories and events occuring, but love isn't happy, it is like a disease, not to be dramatic. but it seems everyone that comes in contact with love, real love that you can really only feel for a few people, if any at all, is a devastating force that leaves you half the person you were before. and it's so strong that it leaves a wound that never completely heals, and can easily be reopened and infected and any point latter in a person's life. is it b/c love is basically such an intense infatuation/obsession that it never really let's you go? and the only time it ever seems to work out is in stories and movies, never in real life, well, if it does i've never heard a story about it. people usually settle for convenience and call it love, just b/c they care about another person and fine it easy to spend the rest of their lives with each other. to me that's not real love, that's a different, lesser form. real love burns brighter than anything and leaves anyone involved exhausted and tattered, but while they're near that flame, that passionate, intense fire...they're pretty much invincible, of course that's a metaphor, but it seems as long as there's someone to share that with you can overcome anything. but love is a tricky thing, b/c it never hits at the same time, two people can love each other the same way, but it has to be at the same time or else it's just a pretty pointless endeavor. love is elusive, and seems way worse than any plague. but to just taste it is an amazing experience that one can only live for. alright, i'm not saying anymore, before i rush into a hopelessly romantic idea of emotions, it'll take too much out of me to not brood.

i feel it...

...and this feeling is called wanderlust, let us buy motorcycles and live life on the road, by the mile...

it's always like this...here...

fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit
i smoked my last cigarette and still shaking like a mother fucker
i want to crawl into a ball and just die
i need you, sorry that i did

...sate...

yes, sate, that's the word of the day
i need something that sates my mind and my wounded fucking sense of love. pathetic, yes, but i'm a whiny little selfish bitch. i want something to satisfying my wandering mind. something to quench the void inside me. something to fill me up...buttercup...and not let me down.
sate: word of my fucking moment.

this is me, on life

i'm pretty pathetic, all i can do is sit here and think about the mistake i've made, huge and dismal.
i can't do anything else, nothing at all, i'm stuck here right now and it's horrible.
i want to pick up the phone and say, 'i was wrong.' but none of that would make a bit of difference now.
all i can do, is do what i should, and what won't make me happy, but happiness is always fleeting with me, always. no matter how long i chase it down, it's simply non-existant for me.
so now i'm reduced to spreading my personal feelings out on the interweb, like it fucking matters, just proving to an endless doubt that i have no care about who hears my whining, my moping.
and i just hope that only one person reads this, and it makes that much of a difference, although it shouldn't, it'll only keep us in the same cycle...or will it? fuck it. it will, i'm never gonna change, i've proven this long.
fuck it all, it's really just pointless, and life's just too long.
i just hate it all, i've made my fucking bed, now all i can do is lie in it and hope that i don't wake up, and...yes...crying. why? b/c i'm a fucking pansy with a broken heart. my fault, don't worry, usually is.

like it's news

it always rains on days that i wanna die.
fuck myspace.
i guess it's time to start breaking promises.

why do i blog?

i hurt like i always do...and in more ways than one.
i'm tired of fucking up like i always do, i could've changed, but it was too late. it's always too fucking late.
so now i'm here, in the same exact place as before b/c i'm too needy.
why can't i just stop playing these fucking games with myself and just let things happen instead of making them?
why can't i let myself just be happy?

i hate this...

i hate thinking about you all the time
i hate drinking and smoking all the time
i hate the way things are with us
i hate that i'll only accept being in your life in one way
i hate that i always wanna change the things i say
i hate that i want to go back and rewrite this simple tragedy into a light-hearted comedy with a happy ending
i hate that i can't enjoy myself with my friends
i hate that everything always comes back to you
i hate that you're the only thing i can write about
i hate the words you say, and the confusion you cause inside me
i hate the doubt you give me about so much
i hate all the hypocritical actions and ways that you've changed
i hate that i can't just quit
i hate that i'm still in love with you
i hate that i'm the only one that can leave, but i still don't want to
i hate that you think i'm the only one you can really talk to
i hate that you don't wanna be with me
i hate that you ask me things i don't want to answer
i hate this feeling i have every day, all fucking day long
i hate that no matter how much i try, my feelings of happiness are fleeting at best
i hate that i'm so alone most of the time
i hate that i want to blame you for all this, but simply just can't
i hate that you know me
i hate that i know you
i hate that you can see through my shit
i hate everything about the situation
and i hate that no matter how much i try to make you see, you can't really understand exactly how much all of this is really fucking killing me
i've just begun to hate life so much

a great big "son of a bitch" followed by an enormous sigh, like eric's balls...enormous

ack...that's all i really have to say...it's hard to wake up in the morning and even harder to sleep at night. i just had my first experience of getting drunk alone. is that a bad sign? well, rough night. i wanted to stay but i knew my heart was already fucking up. cold rock exterior, still squishy inside. and i will fuck shit up. by alas, jeger is my cold friend, she keeps me warm. i just don't see a point, ha, irony has it that i while i was drunk at my birthday party, and being antisocial, i came upstairs and played on the internet. i ended up on wikipedia looking up love, and my life has reached a soaring depth of which i'm hoping never to have to climb out of again without ropes or harnesses. come climb with me? i need the company. my chest hurts, but that's prolly b/c i drank too much...no that should be my stomach...nevermind. it's hard for me to be alone...and yet here i am, alone and fucking depressed all the time. god dammit, now i'm just bringin everybody down. i'm sorry, i'll stop now...and stare in awe at this blog and how it makes sense, me being drunk off my new girlfriend, jegermeister...mmmmm, she tastes better than any girl i've ever kissed.

i take pills to calm the shakes

i'm alone...this is growing up
i still think a lot, wondering what went wrong, trying to be happy for you now, hoping you are...happy...
i try to put together the pieces of what shattered, and i find myself wondering so much, was it all just a dream?
i keep hearing the same things, over and over again, it's kind've like a broken record...a broken record...a broken record
i can wake up in the mornings now without having to sate some sick sadness, i'm not as empty as i was
i'm beginning to let go, and finding out i'm still alive
i can't kid myself any longer, it's not the first time i couldn't deal with myself, and it won't be the last, i'll just have to be that guy for someone else...eventually
but i do hope you're really happy, he sounds great, give him a chance like you never gave anyone else, make sure you let him in and don't fuck around
i am in a world of shit, yes, but i am alive and i am not afraid...this is growing up i suppose, that and well, tomorrow i'll be a whole year older...no lies, no regrets - just friends and booze and maybe a warm feeling...i won't let my self relapse again