fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck

you're fucking lost, dude. i don't even know you anymore. hell, you don't even know you anymore. i want to save you, i love you, you know that, i know that, the whole motherfucking world knows that. you're not the person i used to know, and that makes me sadder than you could ever know. when you send me drunk ims, telling me you're going to kill yourself, you rip me apart. i've been up all night, worrying, crying, throwing my fucking guts up. i hope you're as happy as you're pretending; one day you'll get sick of saying that everything's alright. i'm just hoping that when that day comes, it doesn't involve suicide. i'm here, todd, i'm here. i'm not fucking going anywhere. i would never leave you, i would never leave your side. even when you've left mine, i waited for you, and when you came back, there i was. please stop. stop this fucking bullshit. i'm ready to pick up the pieces when you're ready to admit you're broken. i love you.

hold me

i’m pale so you can see my veins underneath my skin because it’s practically see-through. if i stare at my veins long enough, it’s almost as though i can feel the blood pulsing within them, being transported throughout my entire body. sometimes i trace a path with my fingertip, following my heartbeat from my wrist to wherever the blood is traveling at that particular point in time. i lay there, heavy eyes closed, focusing on my heartbeat. and some days it feels like my blood is lined with lead, everything moves so slowly. sometimes after i shower, i slink down and just sit until my body air dries entirely. i like to rest my head between my kneecaps and just let my wet hair stick to my cheekbones. dark brown tangles fall in front of my face, blocking my eyesight. i watch the water bead up and chase the droplets with my eyes as they weave through the intricate knots and clusters of hair. i pretend the drops are racing down each strand, trying to see who can reach the end first. i might be weird, but i don’t care what you think.

similar to heavy traffic

my hands smell like cigarettes and my breath smells like coffee. my socks are wet from the snow and my nose is pink from the wind. my tears are hidden behind my smile and my hair is damaged from straightening it far too much. i'm a hot mess, really.

i don't even think anybody reads my blog anymore and strangely, i'm alright with that. it's a release for me; especially today. i haven't posted in so long and i didn't realize how detrimental it was becoming. when i write, i'm happy. i'm free of judgment and scrutiny; i'm me. i can spill out all of my innermost thoughts and my deepest emotions and my strongest feelings and nobody says shit to me.

so even though i don't feel like sitting here expelling every detail of my life, i still feel as though i have. my thoughts were so tangled and my life was so haywire before i began typing but now that i'm pressing my fingertips against my keyboard i'm forced to think about the things i've been keeping tucked away in the crevices of my mind and the dusty, cobwebbed corners of my heart. it's almost as though as soon as i hone in on writing my blog the whole world stops moving and all of the chaos surrounding me ceases. sadly, this entry will cease, too. meaning that as soon as i double click that orange 'publish post' button, the complex nature of my complicated life will resume making me feel like i'm stuck on a teacup ride, spinning and spinning, never stopping. i think i'm going to throw up. (publish post)

Where is the Love?

No, this post is not about the Black-Eyed Peas song.

I hate ignorance. I hate narrow-minded people. I hate that people are so against being open-minded, so closed, so afraid of everything. I believe that it is your right to have an opinion, but I also believe that everyone has an opinion and that opinion deserves to be heard just as much as yours. It's so frustrating that people all want to talk, and run their mouths, but the second you disagree you're worth shit.

Consider this. I'm in Speech class right now, discreetly avoiding beginning to type an outline for a persuasive speech about saving the rain forest. There's an overly obnoxious jock with the i.q. of a rock to my right. I'm a Christian. I don't believe in abortion, gay marriage, the death penalty, or sex before marriage. Well, he is writing his persuasive speech on his support of the death penalty. Whatever, those are his beliefs, I respect that. So, when he asked me if I would give him ideas, I respectfully declined. I'm against the death penalty, how am I to aid you in your pro-death penalty speech? We literally argued for about 10 minutes because, apparently, my views are wrong because they're not his opinions. LAME.

I'm not stupid, I know that you're not going to agree with everybody, but you can at least listen to everybody and try to understand where they're coming from. Is that really so much to ask?

Also, that annoying jock to my right just shouted that I was blogging, which would be perilous for my Speech grade and smarty-pants reputation. I not-so-respectfully told him to just shut-up, and now I allegedly am in a bad mood. Go figure. Well NEWS FLASH, I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just sick of people. Mainly you, over there to my right. Also, you can take that apology you just gave me and shove it...well, you know. And, snap my bra strap again and see what happens. (Dick.)

Grin and Bear It

Here’s the deal, I’m a pretty indecisive person. For the past week or two, I’ve left my second period study hall so I could go to Mr. Clements’ room during his Composition class and work on my article about the top ten bizarre soft drinks in Japan. This article, though, has nothing to with soft drinks or Japan. I spent my time in Mr. Clements’ room online looking up weird facts and going to the Discovery Channel website to find out if I "could be Bear Grylls for a day." It was after I won both the Kenya and Iceland adventures that I realized yes, I could be Bear for a day and yes, I would rather write an article about the star of my favorite show, "Man vs. Wild."

One Thursday however, Mr. Clements was reading writing prompts to his class and he suggested the following, "If you could spend one day with any person, living or dead, who would it be?" Even though that prompt wasn’t directed towards me and I knew that I wouldn’t have to write it, I wrinkled my nose and shuddered the thought of having to do so. I’ve never really been a prompt kind of person and that one was flat out cheesy! Or was it?

If I had the opportunity to spend the day with any person, there is not a shred of doubt in my mind that I would spend it with Bear Grylls. Bear provides this superhuman help towards all stranded tourists. Thanks to Grylls, I now know how to survive the unexpected and how to stay alive when I’m hopelessly lost in the Moab Desert or in the Costa Rican rain forests or even the Everglades. Thanks to Grylls, I can get out of frightening predicaments such as quicksand and freezing arctic waters. But lately, rumors surrounding the credibility of Bear’s show had me doubting whether or not he can get himself out of those tough situations.

A former member of the British Special Forces, Grylls proclaims he can "show you the skills you need to survive." Until recently, I never felt any state of disbelief as I would watch him, mouth ajar, eat creepy crawlies like maggots, scorpions, and snakes. Something inside me would tingle and be fascinated every time I would see him construct a raft out of balsa wood or build a makeshift shelter out of pine tree branches. Then I read a report on the BBC News website that claimed that Bear Grylls was a phony. How dare they? It was almost as though my world had shattered before me. Yes, that's a bit of an exaggeration. It semi-shattered. Generally any die-hard fan would boycott his or her new ex-favorite show when it was being called a sham, but not me. I still cancel all previously made plans with close friends in order to watch it. I still schedule my day around all potential viewings of the show. I still make all the residents of my household vacate the area so that I may watch Bear in a peaceful, serene location filled only with sound of attractive British accents and crackling fires. I know it may be a bit over the top, but I don’t really care. Sure, maybe Bear has stayed in motel or two, but he’s still eating beetle larvae and spruce needles on camera and that’s okay with me.

I’ve decided that I’m okay if Bear doesn’t rough every night in the wild. He’s still trudging through smelly swamp goo, eating things that give normal people goosebumps, and exploring ancient, vampire bat-infested viper pits. I think it’s because no matter what, a hero is still a hero. It’s even more heroic to know that my hero has flaws, things that make him imperfect, things that put him more on my level. I think that it’s for those reasons that I will continue to aspire to someday be just like Bear. Well, maybe my aspiration is just to continue aspiring about being Bear; either way, I’m satisfied.