:: 2008 17 July :: 2.17 pm
:: Music: Almost Lover: A Fine Frenzy

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:: 2008 2 June :: 7.44 pm

I didn't say it would be easy.. I said it would be worth it.

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:: 2008 27 April :: 10.06 am
:: Mood: exhausted

"When you're in darkness don't forget what you saw in the light."

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:: 2008 8 March :: 5.39 pm
:: Mood: surviving
:: Music: The Format: The First Single (You Know Me)

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:: 2008 22 January :: 9.30 pm
:: Mood: rushed

[re-write]
It's only the sun... why bring hope where it once was forgotton?

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:: 2008 15 January :: 7.49 pm
:: Mood: drained
:: Music: Keane

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:: 2007 5 December :: 7.00 pm
:: Mood: exhausted

We'd be so less fragile
If we're made from metal
And our hearts from iron
And our minds from steel
And if we built an armor
For our tender bodies
Could we love each other
Would we stop to feel

And you want three wishes:
One to fly the heavens
One to swim like fishes
And then one you're saving for a rainy day
If your lover ever takes her love away

You say you want to know her like a lover
And undo her damage, she'll be new again
Soon you'll find that if you try to save her
It will lose her anger
You will never win

And you want three wishes:
You want never bitter
And all delicious
And then one you're saving for a rainy day
If your lover ever takes her love away

You want three wishes:
One to fly the heavens
One to swim like fishes
You want never bitter
And all delicious
And a clean conscience
And all it's blisses
You want one true lover with a thousand kisses
You want soft and gentle and never vicious
And then one you're saving for a rainy day
If your lover ever takes her love away

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:: 2006 26 April :: 4.40 pm
:: Mood: melancholy

Here I am beside myself again.
I'm torn apart by words that you have said.
And all in all,
I know we're falling apart.
Where did you run to so far away?

You said you like to hear the rain sometimes.
And all I can do is tell you the truth.
And oh, my eyes will tell you the same.

Grasp our hands together,
We feel we are one result.
And here we are to sing you a song,
And there you are asleep again...

5 | ...

:: 2005 18 June :: 5.59 pm
:: Mood: listless

I'm sinking like a stone in the sea.
I'm burning like a bridge for your body.

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:: 2005 17 June :: 5.52 pm

My heart feels heavy.

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:: 2005 21 May :: 7.32 pm

I wish it had been me instead.

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:: 2005 21 May :: 10.09 am
:: Mood: empty

I feel so empty. So numb.

I keep picturing Jeriel flying down that slide on those knee-pads at Free Falling. I keep imagining him at school, challenging me to do the hand shake backwards and with my left hand. He always was so good at that.

A part of me still doesn't believe he's gone. How could he be? He was so young, so full of life, he had such a bright future ahead of him.

And a part of me wants to believe I'm mistaken. That I dont really know this amazing kid who died too young. That I'm going to go to school on Monday and he'll be there, just like always, to say hello and give me a hug and make sure I'm doing alright. And I'll ask where he's been and he'll just tell me he went away for a little bit, but he's back now. Everything is alright, and there's no more reason to cry.

And I know I'm stupid and I'm foolish for thinking these things, but I don't want to have to picture him cold and dead, in a box underground.

Because it isnt fair.
And I miss him so much.


I know he's in a better place now. He's happy and he's where he wants to be. And I know I'm selfish for wishing he could be back here with us. And and and...

This is just so hard.
You never imagine this type of thing could happen to you. We all know kids die, but it's always something you just hear about and never experience first hand. Why him? Why someone so selfless and so special? Why why why...

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:: 2005 11 May :: 3.16 pm
:: Mood: contemplative

I wish I knew how to get over Dan.

Every night I tell myself it's stupid, hopeless, move on. And every morning I tell myself I can do this, I can get through a day without feeling anything for him. And then I see his face.

I wish I knew what it was that made me feel so drawn to him. [Other than his gorgeous deep brown eyes and mysterious yet adorable half smile] I dont even know him. All I have to go on is a name and an age, and whatever judgements I can make by the books I see him carrying around. Yet this doesnt seem to stop me.

I am not usually an irrational person. I am realistic, logical. And I know in my mind that this could never, will never, work. Never even happen. So why do I continue feeling this way? Why does any hope remain when I know that it shouldnt?

[What the fuck is my problem?]

A little over two weeks until he leaves. He's going to graduate and go out into the real world and live his life. No lingering thoughts, no hesitations. That's just the way it is. He wont think of me, wont even remember me. And I know that. I've known it since the day I found out he was a senior. And me? Yeah, I'll keep going. Eventually I'll get over it and I'll be fine, this is only lust anyways. Sure, I'll think about him from time to time, but summer will end and with school starting I'll find myself a new distraction. But that doesnt mean I want to.

Every damn day I wish I were older, wish he were younger, etc etc. But I cant ever change that, and I know I'm waisting time in wishing. But it doesnt change the fact...

Nothing ever changes the fact, does it? No matter how many times I tell myself to get over it and move on, that hope remains, and no matter how much I hate it, I have no choice but to continue believing in it until the day comes when he is gone for good.

But that's fine by me. It's going to have to be, right? Two more weeks. Just two more weeks until my freedom.

[Man, I'm gonna miss him.]

Whatever. It's useless. Nothing I can do about it. I guess.

I just wonder if I'm as much a mystery to him as he is to me.

2 | ...

:: 2005 15 April :: 9.13 pm
:: Mood: anxious

Please say something.
Time is going by so slow and I think I might shatter.

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:: 2005 15 April :: 6.29 pm
:: Mood: listless

I hate waking up in the morning, wondering if you'll be walking to the bus today, knowing you probably wont but trying to make myself look good in hopes that you will anyways.

I hate being at school, constantly seeing you in the halls but feeling too stupid, too immature, to say anything.

I hate walking up the hill alone because it just makes me remember all those conversations, all those times you made me laugh when everyone else was making me cry.

I hate being home because everytime I hear that car coming down the road I cant help but run to my window to see you, if only for a little while.

I just feel like I'm going crazy.
Last night I had to get out, had to get away because every other second I could swear I heard your car and I'd run to the window and no one would be coming. So I ran. Out my door and down the hill and through the woods. And I didnt stop until I thought my lungs were going to burst. And then I cried. Fuck, I dont even know why. Lately I've just been feeling so helpless and so worthless because I can't seem to find the courage to try and make you understand.

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:: 2005 9 April :: 3.59 am

Where were you when I was burned and broken
While the days slipped by from my window watching
Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

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:: 2005 8 April :: 1.42 pm
:: Mood: melancholy

Last night I had this dream that Ben came back and I wouldn't let him out of my sight. I took hold of his hand and followed him around school. "Never again," I said, "I'm not losing you ever again." His friends all looked at me in awe. When they saw me with him they all stopped what they were doing and pointed at us and I could hear them saying, "That's Tori! What is she doing with him?" It was odd.

And then I woke up crying.

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:: 2005 6 March :: 4.55 pm

How many years have I spent pretending I'm just the girl next door, literally?

1 | ...

:: 2005 4 March :: 11.57 pm

[Guess Who]
I'm starting to fashion an idea in my head
Where I would impress you with every single word I said
It would come out insightful,
or brave,
or smooth,
or charming
And you'd want to call me

And I would be there every time you need me
I'd be there every time

But for now I'll look so longingly waiting
for you to want me,
for you to need me,
for you to notice me.

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:: 2004 23 December :: 4.02 pm
:: Mood: blah

"I took a chance to make things better and ended up drowning in a wishing well."

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:: 2004 2 November :: 7.24 pm

:: 2004 1 September :: 6.59 pm

I'm not bitter, I'm just cynically hopeful.

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:: 2004 11 July :: 11.08 pm

This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible.
This was terrible with raisins in it.

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:: 2004 26 May :: 11.40 am
:: Mood: touched

[What She Doesn't Know Will Kill You by Matt Brochu]:

You met her a few months ago, and somehow she managed to seep into your subconscious like that "Suga how you get so fly" song. Just like you have no clue who the hell sings it, you don't know why she's there. But she is, whether you like it or not. You know her cell phone, her room phone. You can dial her Aunt Doreen's house in West Springfield (where she goes to do her laundry every two weeks) faster than you can peck-out 911. But she doesn't know.

Her screenname, that generic one with her first name followed by three to five random numbers or UMass, has its own category at the top of your buddy list. Not only do you know what a "Buddy Alert" is, you've rigged your computer to play "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" from "Tommy Boy" every time her screen name changes from gray to black. Then her away message comes down, and you have a decision to make. To IM or not to IM? These are the ridiculous games that you play on a daily basis. But she doesn't know.

She's it. All right, so maybe not "it" it. Not necessarily Ms. Right, but closer to Ms. Right-up-there-with-Anna-Kournikova-and-Lizzie-McGuire-on-your-list-of-people-you'd-give-anything-to-be-stranded-with-on-a-broken-down-elevator. But it's about more than that. When is it ever about more than that? Never. Not like frilly white dress, overpriced catering, embarrassing drunk in-laws more, but closer to UMass sweatpants, two D.P. Dough Roni Zonies, a futon and a movie you have no interest in seeing more. But she doesn't know.

She's gorgeous, but gorgeous is an understatement. More like you're startled every time you see her because you notice something new in a "Where's Waldo" sort of way. More like you can't stop writing third grade run-on sentences because you can't remotely begin to describe something ... someone ... so inherently amazing. But you're a writer. You can describe anything. That's what you do: pictures to words, events to words, words to even better words. But nothing seems right. More like you're afraid that if you stare at her for too long, you'll prove your parents right: that yes, your face will stick that way. But you wouldn't mind.

You wouldn't mind that the questioning, "Hello?" on the other end makes you want to smile and throw up at the same time. You wouldn't mind worrying about what to get her for her birthday and spending $300 when you only have $17.50 and a Triple-A card to your name. You wouldn't mind that she left your TV on and the blaring infomercials wake you up at 4 a.m. ... because it gives you a chance to watch her sleep. You don't mind that you've slipped up twice when you were hammered and hinted at how you feel, but she was too drunk to remember. So she doesn't know.

Sure, she's pretty, but it's about more than that. You two connect. Anything you throw at her, she can throw right back. You figured out what's going on in that predictable head of hers in under five minutes, but something tells you her heart would take about five years.

You remember everything she's ever said to you, and when that freaks her out you blame it on your photographic memory (which is a lie, you have a 2.7 GPA). You can't remember your teaching assistant's name, and you can't remember that your Puffton rent check was due four days ago, yet you remember the middle name of the kid who tripped her in fifth grade and gave her that cute little scar on her shoulder. Maybe it's because you actually listen when she talks. When do you actually listen? Never. But she doesn't know.

But she has a boyfriend. The kid is a tool, and you are not. He has no redeeming qualities, and you have about 38, even when you're hung over. You could kick his butt, and you've never been in a fight in your life. He treats her like crap, and you would treat her like the princess she believed herself to be on Halloween in 1988.

But she loves him. He wouldn't know what he had even if she slapped him across the face and dumped him, but somehow she still loves him. And somehow she still doesn't know.

Then, out of nowhere, she slaps him across the face and dumps him. She comes to you. You've been there before, so you seem like the smartest guy on earth. She cries, but your corny half-joke, half-compliment somehow gets a smile out of her that almost makes you feel ashamed that you're the only one around who gets to witness it. It looks like you might make her realize that all guys don't deserve to have rocks thrown at them.

But nothing changes. She doesn't know. You get that library elevator feeling in your stomach that she'll never know. You get that feeling that you'll be forced to write a cheesy Collegian column about her that makes "Sleepless in Seattle" look like "Girls Gone Wild."

You go to sleep. You wake up. She doesn't know. You're not in love. You're not obsessed. You blame it on the fact that you just need to get some, but still, it's about more than that. It would just be nice if once in your life, things worked out the way you wanted them to.

So ___________, it's about time you know.

Now cut this out, fill in her name, and give it to her, coward. Just let me know how it works out.

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:: 2003 15 October :: 1.42 am
:: Mood: tired

So fold me up, and put me back in the place where you used to keep your heart. You think it's getting smaller. It's been that way for quite some time now.

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