It's hard for me to think that you actually want me in that way.
Why? I'm not necessarily sure. I've been wanted before, I think.
I am usually, whether you like it or not, an after-thought.
Though some beg to differ,
and if I am that, I'm accepting.
I'm accepting it regardless of my future-self.
Fuck that embodiment of myself and my ideals.

I've never thought of it that way before.
I've also never been this honest.
I've lied to you twice, that I've counted.
And only a week in, whew.
What a strain.

In case you forget:

"I like when you touch my shoulders like that. It makes me feel strong."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I love you--"
"Tah?"
"What?"
"You love Utah. That's cool."
-------------------------------
"Something like honey--"
"Honey."
"Yeah, like sweetie--"
"Honey-sweetie."
"Like, baby."
"Honey-sweetie-baby."
----------------------------
"Too far away, Jessi."
----------------------------
"Having all of your clothes on sucks."
---------------------------------------
"I wish Sperber were here."
------------------------------
"When I say things like, 'sternum' I think, 'who cares?'"
---------------------------------------------------------
"I don't want you to ever regret any night you spend with me."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Where's Aaron Brodersen when you need him?"
---------------------------------------------
"I kind of missed you."
------------------------
"I don't know who's creepier:
Me for having hairy legs, or you for liking them. I think it's you."
--------------------------------------------------------------------

This is from December 26th, 2010.
Fucking hell. I probably should have listened to my first instinct.

************************************************

I am not exactly on cloud nine. Like I thought I'd be.
I'm not feeling girlish.
Because what if I am just your safety plan?
I have a feeling that you're unstable enough to use me in that way.
Even though I know you wouldn't realize it, it's what you're doing.

Maybe.

It's like I was sitting with a plate in front of me. And it was empty.
It was empty for a really long time, and when I pictured you on my platter,
you looked a lot tastier than you seem at the moment.
And now that you're there, you seem like you've been cut in half.
Like you have a huge hole where the hearty, tasty goodness used to be.

Whether I want to believe it or not,
life is not all about getting some for me.
I want you to taste and BE as delicious as you were a month ago.

I wish I could just rip you apart and devour you so you could always be mine, and I wouldn't have to worry about my plate anymore.
Because you wouldn't be in front of me, you'd be inside, sitting, swimming through me.

The back of my head feels like someone nailed a board to it.
That's the fear. It's laid it's egg right there in the back of me skull.
And I hope it doesn't hatch all over you tomorrow.

I'm so scared. I haven't been this scared in awhile.

I need to sleep.
No more of this drug of Sleep Deprivation.
No more.


Honey-sweetie-baby.
Is that what you want?
Well of course.
I'll do anything for you.

Charlotte,

I understand why you didn't like Steve Martin, okay?
I understand why you never played barbies with me, and always made Leroy.
I get that I was, in retrospect, a replacement child.
I'm sorry I never called you
I'm sorry I never wrote
I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much I thought about you.
And I'm sorry that I lost the music box you gave me.

I think that it sucks that this is all I can give you right now.
I think that it's a shame that I am a teenager, oh so devoted to the art of attention whoring.

I wish you could see me all grown up.
I just know you'd be proud of me.
Because for some reason, you never once noticed a fault of mine.

And I'm angry. I'm not angsty. I'm not upset.
I am angry and hurt and selfish
for wanting you to stay.

And came a comrade for the taking

I tend to get frustrated a lot.
And nothing I do, whether it be an attempt to rid me of said stress, or just anything to try and calm or soothe or make joyful myself and anyone else, helps.

Everything I do must be a dilemma.
A conundrum.

Simplicity within my own head would be nice sometimes.
Because even if I forget one thing,
there is another lurking in the swells.

I don't really want to talk about anything.
But I do. Every single day. Out of a wretched habit.
A ritual. A routine that I've fallen into.

You know, I think perhaps it's time to be quiet.
Because when I talk, I only complicate.
And no one would mind.
In fact, I like listening to Annemarie, Jordan, Spencer, Mason, Nicole, Avery, Wade..etc. more than I like the sound of my own whining. Or my own questions.

Perhaps it's time to ponder.
It's time to focus.
And time to un-focus, if you get my meaning.

But within all this solitude,
it would be nice to have a comrade.

Dontcha just love?

Never did I ever think I would feel such anger towards you, hold so much against you.
Don't call me sweet,
don't kiss my cheek,
don't take my hand.

Never have I ever felt that I could so easily feel such pure, intense, free of extraneous elements of any kind, unadulterated dislike. Needless to say, I don't hate you. By gum, I wish I did. Then I could say it. But I don't. I can't even write it. And I'll probably talk to you tomorrow.

Fuck you.
I hate that you're you.
And I would hate it if you weren't.



I fucking hate you.


(retract that last statement)

stop eating my brain

I am so unbelievably frustrated.
Spencer's made me forget for a while.
And now I'm right back up on that horse.

I hate no-bake cookies

Rejection doesn't teach a lesson,
or make every accepting person or experience better,
it just makes me angry.
And emotional and explosive.

No one is ever a fan of rejection,
but why now?
why YOU?
Like YOU'RE something special.
Like YOU deserve better than me?


God damnit.
Perhaps you do.
Maybe I just need to admit to myself that I am not all that desirable.
I mean, not that I wasn't fully aware of this, thanks.
But by YOU?

This is just humiliating.

And why, WHY is it humiliating?
Because I set my standards so low, so that I have no fear of getting rejected, because usually I assure my success before I delve into anything?

I'm getting desperate.
I know that sounds pathetic.
But you will never have any idea of how utterly true that statement has come to be.

I hate you, because I hate myself,
and I hate that I hate myself,
because I don't, really.
And I don't hate you.

And all of these emotions that I think I forge are real.
I'm feeling things against my better judgement,
and against my will.
And I don'ttry to fight it.
Why would I?
Up until now,
I've been just peachy,
skimming the surface of everything,
saying all the right-wrong things.

Just spouting intracacies,
and idiocracies.

And emitting an endless amount of blank space,
space for me,
space for my selfishness to flourish,
and my own body to stretch and be content.
I don't have room for anyone else, really.
But I've found you more than once lounging beside me,
in this lush false paradise I've created.

I hate that feeling.
That someone is sharing in my selfishness.

Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.

I just don't get the feeling that I'll be able to shake this. Or you. For quite some time.

I hope you rot in hell.
But not really, you good christian you.

I just have harsh feelings toward you at the moment.
But if you break down and call me,
this will probably all go away.

Mostly.

the very definition of contentiment

There is a prominent yearning for and of simplicity,
with a side of nostaligia
and it's not extremely strenuous to push aside all unsuccessful efforts,
and just engorge myself in conversation and love
when I'm in certain company.

In otherwords,
I love being at your house, Jordan.

I didn't lie.

I do feel queasy.


I really do appreciate my mother.
As long as you're honest with her and hers, she's pretty awesome.

Solitude.
Don't get me wrong, it's nice and peaceful sometimes. Times when I enjoy being alone as much, or more, than I enjoy being around people.

Plus, I'm not too nice to people these days.
I don't know what's happened.
It's not like I don't know I hurt people's feelings.
But I take them into consideration afterwards.
But by then, they've moved on, and I'm left to think that I can't take that second back. I can't take those words back.

I've become bitter, mostly.
though, I still enjoy myself quite a lot.
I don't blame anyone but myself.


All I want is to get lost in a book.
In some one else's life.
Problems
social barriers
love life
and internal conflicts.

It's odd to think,

that I'll be singing a love song I wrote about you, in front of you.
And I doubt that you notice that I stare.
Eye contact is my enemy.
Because when I'm looking at you, not only do I feel asphyxiated,
but I feel like your gaze is unlocking me, and I feel loose.
I feel free.
I feel bare,
your hands are in your own pockets,
keeping your arms busy,
and you're not there to blanket me.

I MISS ELISABETH.
I wonder if she knows what a sunspot is..
I'm pretty sure she does, but she lets me call her that anyway :)

I find an intensely focused brain incredibly attractive.
The thought of someone explaining things like computer programming, or quadratic equations during sex is just..gorgeous.

The first time I wrote that sentence,
instead of 'sex' I wrote 'intercourse'
How lame is that?
Sex is such a great word.

random musings

“Insecurities are about as useful as trying to put the pin back in the grenade.”

The show will be super..? I have no idea what my feelings on the show are. Maybe I should just take away the '..?' and just put an '!'

The show will be super!

That feels good.


So. I do this thing, where whenever I'm into someone, I tell whoever I can. And I haven't told anyone anything as of recently. It's refreshing.
It's not that I like bottling things up, or hiding things.
But I'm just having an ickle laugh to myself over my own teenage dramas.

She sits,
not alone in her thoughts,
but accompanied by another of herself.
Another of one that she is, and at times,
is not.

I think I'll keep my knowledge to myself for awhile.
Why not be up front? Why let my anger boil and writhe inside me?

No one has ever made me feel as cheap and used and unloved and unwanted as you just did.

the sun vs. the law

I've never been the best significant other.
People have no trouble falling out of love with me.
When it comes down to it, I'm just too easy to out-shine.

But I'm accepting, eventually,in every situation.
It's pathetic, really.

I fell in love with fourteen teenagers from Florida.


Jules' games
never being able to eat
doing yoga in the bathroom
the band
my secret shame is Cory's too
drawing Jordan
Cory's guitar is difficult
watching the boys wipe-out
89 foot slip n' slides
orange vs. purple
my bra stolen every night
calling with vegan recipes at 3am
not remembering what day it is
realizing it's 4:20am
vandalizing Mason
"Yo' not just ballin', yo' PAINT-ballin'"
the lap game
chair-forts
death metal
the drama team
1,2,3,4,5 suckers
it's CATURDAY!!!
"Dan's BEEN ready.."
Tonight's Trivia
MUD
tennis-ball wars
Turkey with Turkey Gravy
"You smell so TATE"
"I AM MASON"



I almost made it out without crying.

need/want

I may be running away,
but who says that's so wrong?

I let myself slip into a deep funk.
But I'm not the only one who wants me gone.

How can something as trivial as another person's hoodie,
make me feel so beautiful?

Wait, wait..I seduced you?

I didn't know I was capable.


"You're like a junkie..who hates needles."

Yeah, I know I'm quiet,
but yeh know, it's not exactly like I can be LOUD
when in the middle of a sleeping neighborhood.

I honestly think I did that out of spite.
He was on his date, and Amber was with him.


Shame on me?

facebook picture comments

In this situation, B=boy, G=girl and Kc is just Kc Stone.


B: I like this picture. Like, a whole lot!

Kc: Awwwwwwwwwww I liiiiiike this picture! More than you do!!!!!!!!!!!!

B: No...you really don't Kc, I absolutely love this picture, Jessi looks beautiful in it. It's super rockin. There's nothing you can say that's going to change that. I will love this picture forever more than you.

G: You haven't even seen the others!

B: She's a very pretty girl (=

This to that.

"How's it going?"
Were the first words out of his mouth.
Instantly, my mind exploded with
"What is the incessant IT you keep referring to?!"

It,
Like a dog.
Like an object.
Like and infant before it's named.

Can you imagine two people running around their suburban home,
two years later,
still happily married,
and still calling that infant IT.
"Dear, have you seen IT? It's time for him to get ready for a party."
"Oh yes, it's a costume party, right? What's IT going as?"
"A clown."

But I only mention the incessance of IT,
because the day before,
he'd asked me a similar question.
"How's it coming along?"

Has my mind lost pieces I need to collect?
Any normal person would come to the conclusion
he was referring to our unfinished science project.
But not me. No.
My mind went to that poor child.

So, I'm stuck.
"How's it going?"
How's IT..going.

"I'm sure IT's fine."
Is my final reply.
Kill me.
I'd like to die.

Right about now.
Someone show some kindness.

I scramble for words.
My mouth open wide,
wanting to spout
and rant
and inquire
about his
"It" factor.

"Sorry," I say,
"I'm a little out of sorts today."
"That's okay." A smile.

I cringe inside.
Don't even get me started on THAT.

In a simple musing,

I'm not inspired, per se
I don't get inspired easily.
And usually, when I write
it's some measly
little rhyming thing
that never satisfies.

But to satisfy and appetite that's mental
I guess that's work for the muses.

But what is a muse?
And what is it's use?

Often portrayed as a gree-esque lady.
Can't you just picture them all?

All toga-ed up,
Gathered somewhere in the clouds,
Boasting of all their triumphs out loud,

"Ever heard of a little thing called Beethoven's 9th?
All me, honey."
"No shit? Well, I pride myself most on that darling little Mona-girl.
Oh, you know, the painting?"

But women such as this,
couldn't be that deep.
I have a feeling that people in general a very shallow.

But, none-the-less, I have a theory.

A muse is in a musing.
A moment that some great energy passes through the mind,
like when you're hit in the head with a big rubber ball?
You seem to lose all thought for a time.
And you feel something that isn't quite unconciousness,
and yet, you don't feel awake.

The in-between is the ticket.
Like, you're in two seperate worlds simultaneously.
Or, just another world all together.
Not another Earth,
or an alternate,
but simply a state of being.

Just being.
Floating in your own mind.
Not confined to the heaviness of your body.

Inspiration.
It's got to come from somewhere.
Not that we'll ever know.
Believe you me,
we'll come up with some excuse like religion or a higher being,
And discredit ourselves, and our own abilities.

Such is life.
Stuff and non-sense.
Bits and pieces.

Unfinished.
Unwritten.
Unsatisfying.

I have no idea what I want.

And, really, regardless of popular belief, including my own at times, I'm okay with that. (:

Oh, my mother.

I love her.

She brought me Easter a day late, because we didn't really celebrate this year, and I said I missed Easter when I was little.
So she showed up after work with a large choco-bunny and signature Cadbury Creme Eggs, Peeps, and mini hard candy eggs shells we used to have every easter.

And the cherry on top?
She hid them all in my little computer room.

I'm only sleeping.

"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired."

The perfect excuse.


I've been a little overly lethargic lately, come to think of it. I don't mind being tired. Being in a constant dream-like state is a-ok by me. I tend to be less afraid of myself when I'm tired, because frankly, I don't care.

And, on days that I've been exhausted, I tend to learn a lesson of some kind. Something very good, very strange, or very bad happens. But I'm never left wanting in the end.

Something has changed within me,

Something is not the same.
I'm done with playing by the rules
of someone else's game.

Too late for second guessing,
Too late to go back to sleep.
It's time to trust my instincts,
close my eyes and leap.

It's time to try
Defying Gravity.
I think I'll try
Defying Gravity.
Kiss me goodbye
I'm Defying Gravity.

I'm through accepting limits
'Cause someone says they're so.
Some things I cannot change,
But 'til I try I'll never know.

Too long I've been afraid of
losing love I guess I've lost.
Well if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost.

I'd sooner buy
Defying Gravity.
Kiss me goodbye
I'm Defying Gravity.
I think I'll try
Defying Gravity.
And you won't bring me down.




Oh, Kurt. Oh Chris Colfer. Why do you have to be gay?
It's not like I wouldn't grow a penis for you. I would.
It's just..can't you make an acception? Just once?
If I ever meet you, I think I'll cry. Hell, I know I'll cry.
I've already planned what I'm going to say to you.
So 'giddy-up future, here I come.

I've realised just how many notebooks I have. And I write in all of them. In fact, somedays I write in all of them. I just have so much to say, but I have such a bad memory that I have to write it down anywhere I can. My hand, an assignment, a stray piece of paper lying around.

I once wrote on the desk..at the time I thought it was very important stuff. And it turned into a pretty nice poem, if you ask me. But it took awhile of hiding it from my grandmother before I got it off. There's still a mark there from pressing too hard with the pen. I run my hand over it sometimes to have a laugh.

It's almost as if I leave little pieces of myself everywhere on purpose. Like, if I died in my sleep tonight, I know that they would find something I wrote, and decide to share it with the world. Or something like that.

I ate a cookie today.

I say I'm giving up sugary things for lent. But, be the first to know, I'm giving up speaking unless spoken to, I'm giving up talking about myself for the most part, I'm giving up feeling like a bottomless pit at the end of the day because I can't keep anything about anything to myself. Filling conversation with gossip, gossip in general for that matter.

The point is, I want to become the me in my head. I don't want to hate myself inside because I have no self-control and an abundance of bad habits. I guess you could say I want to appear less selfish, though I am doing this for personal reasons and that in turn is "selfish".

All I'll ever want is acceptance, from myself, and from you.

Harold and Maude say:

Get together regardless of your age, race, creed, color or national origin. Thank you."

Oh, cult films. I have stumbled across yet another. And fallen in love. Madly, deeply, I tell you! If you haven't seen Harold and Maude..DO IT. It's one of the most innovative, unique, thought-provoking, and touching things I've seen in a very, very long time.

Gone Rogue.

You ever wonder why we take such good care of our teeth? I mean, maybe the reason they deteriorate is because they were meant to fall out that quickly. Maybe we weren't actually meant to last this long, hm? I mean, we certainly take an awful lot of work. We're kind of fragile creatures. But we got more intelligent over the years, like a robot that built up knowledge and will now take over the world. Ironic, no?