Still.

Today is your day.

I Don’t Believe You

At this moment.

I’m glad i did what i did.

Tonight was weird.

I don’t even feel phased.

You Belong With Me

I have to admit, i’m a fucking sucker for this Taylor Swift song. BUT i love how Butch Walker covered it and that’s the version she and Butch did on the Grammy’s.

His studio version. Play around 2:45

In love with my drums

“you’re my light”

Runaway

Artistics101

Growing up:
I stayed in my room a lot always being creative (drawing, painting).
My grandma always had a pencil and paper in front of me when i visited (which was a lot) she got so excited with every little thing i put on that paper.
It was this weird yellow paper. She got it from teaching her ccd classes. I remember her being so proud of me. Her face would light up every time i made her anything and she kept it all. She’d show it to her friends when they visited. She made me feel like i was good at it. So i kept it up.

Eventually it becomes therapeutic and a way to escape. At home with my mom i would always be in my room drawing or doing anything artistic or creative, listening to my boom box. Tapes. Alanis Morissette. Songs on the radio.
I would spend my days outside on my bike and or playing sports and then i’d be in my room expressing myself on paper and often thinking ‘I’d rather not deal with whats going on downstairs.’ I remember one summer i realized i hardly saw my friends. I came back to school and some had split into groups. Now, kids were smoking and drinking…while i had just spent my days being creative. It didn’t matter to me what crowd i was in. Eventually when i got to high school i had friends in all different social groups. Not a lot…but a few here and there. Freaks, Geeks, Jocks, and Popular preppy girls.
I was always super quiet but…I remember walking down the halls and people stopping me and asking for copies of some of my drawings. It felt nice.

In my art classes, all my teachers challenged me. I liked the challenge. When i got to jr and senior year my favorite art teacher Mr Cuoco pretty much let me do whatever i wanted for my assignments while the class had specific things they had to do. I earned a lot of freedom.

It’s become a great way to get my feelings and emotions out. Sometimes it’s exactly what i need. Now that i’m older sometimes it’s not enough. But…it does…help.

* The current work i do *

I have touched the singers ass

Just sayin.

No but seriously love love love this band (The Love Me Nots) such greatness and amazing people.
<3

I don’t like this.

In fact i hate it.

and…this addiction is sick.

____________________

…

Bonded with the gays at work.
They took me aside just now.
I bawled.
I can’t keep it together all day. It’s just not possible.
It hurts so much.

Addiction.

I don’t think there is a cure/rehab for what i’m addicted to.

You have no idea.

Can’t catch a break.
______________________

M: “you’re such a rockstar”
Me: “i’m really not, my life is not like it apparently seems”
M: “You’re such a rockstar!”
Me: “In my reality though…i’m…sad”

I don’t understand why people are so fasincated with me/my life and why they think it’s so interesting. This past weekend, was crazy. I don’t really live that life.
It confuses me that people make stuff up about me (and them) or try and get other people to find out my personal business. It’s just not ok.
AND then especially when you fucked up and wont admit it, or anything else for that matter. Fuck you.

Judy said it best: “If I’m such a legend, then why am I so lonely?”

______________________

I let it happen…it happened.
…and i hated every minute of it.

I will just always be

second best.

and not good enough.

Picked up where we left off.

Last night i saw some old (?) friends, friends that always make me non stop laugh. It was great to be with them again. I think i really needed that good time off from people. It felt wonderful to be there. It was a fresh start. We laughed a lot. A LOT.
Some new people came. Some guys too. One of the guys and my friend got into a heated conversation about…squirting. “We’re all human super soakers” hhahahaha! I walked in the room and was like…”what?!” Just a very random conversation to walk in on. It got very very heated. The lesbians said they know more about vagina’s than the straight guys, and the guys’ egos were going through the roof. In the end i butted in and i said…”HEY…yanno no matter what…what it all comes down to is that everyone is different. No matter what. Some girls can do it. Some girls can’t. Some girls like it, and some don’t. It just all depends on the person, the people. They finally agreed to that conclusion. That felt nice.

One straight guy was trying to be sleezy to me, when he went there with my friend. Not ok. I shrugged him off just out of respect for my friend. Otherwise i would have knocked him in the nuts. He even kissed my hand…who does that?! weirdo.

__
But today. Today it hurts more. Because, i know. and today i don’t really like you. I miss you, and i don’t like you. Really though…it’s mostly just what you’re doing.

Long weekend.

I have a date with a bottle of nyquil from tomorrow until tuesday. Scary. Maybe even longer.

Fail.
Disapointment.

Nice girls finish last too. I never hurt you, yet ….(edit out)
It’s really unbelievable.
Nothing is fair. THIS really is not fair.

Down to you.

‘Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the
days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You’re a kind person
You’re a cold person too
It’s down to you
It all comes down to you.

You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination

Everything comes and goes
Pleasure moves on too early
And trouble leaves too slow
Just when you’re thinking
You’ve finally got it made
Bad news comes knocking
At your garden gate
Knocking for you
Constant stranger
You’re a brute-you’re an angel
You can crawl-you can fly too
It’s down to you
It all comes down to you’

Junk/Treasure

I spent the weekend going through some of my things. Throwing away junk and clothes. I’ve been doing this over and over for months. Trying to let go of things is hard, i know got it from my grandma. I keep a lot of sentimental things, i even have things that still hurt. My desk is almost bare. When i look in my ichat/skype…the view looking at my shelves and corkboard looks so cluttered. I hate it. I’m working on one space at a time. Over and over.
You see, it wasn’t you that makes me want to get rid of my useless things. It never was. You motivated me.

I’m ready to be out of Boston, yet not fully ready. I need a feeling of safety. I need to know that i wont be coming back in case i can’t afford to be there. That is the scariest thing about it. That and a job.

I will miss Boston. It’s my home, it always will be. I just need to start over. I need a new setting. New friends. New family.
Becuase i’m just. not. happy.

I mean i’m already…alone. I think leaving could possibly make me closer to my dad, as strange as that sounds. Mom…that will take time but i will have less guilt being piled on my shoulders every single day.

It will be a good thing.

Sept 6, 2009

My Birthday.
Connecticut.
Facing each other.
…a text msg.

“I’m gonna marry you one day, Megan Smith.”

The best birthday present…ever.

________________________
Things saved in my phone*(1)
to be continued…

I know.

I have as much as i can. Right now.

Trust me, I’m not going to be with or completely trust anyone* unless they want to be with JUST me. I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. It’s not going to happen just like that. I know. If it does, then it does. I will regain trust if i’m proven so.

Nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes. I can understand that. Yes you fucked up. At the same time you’re not giving yourself credit.

There is a reason for all of this. Maybe you know it and are afraid to tell me, but maybe you really don’t. Let’s just hope that things go the right way.

I believe in you, i always have.

Etsy

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and check out my girly Samantha there as well (ummmmheyyyy.wordpress)
http://www.etsy.com/shop/notcrap