She grabs her magazines
She packs her things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years
To feel this old

He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone

And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang

The trouble understand, is she got reasons he don't
Funny how he couldn't see at all, 'til she grabbed up her coat
And she goes, she's been here too few years to take it all in stride
But still it's much too long, to let hurt go (you let her go)
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The same for you
I'll always hang
Well I always say, it would be good to go away
But if things don't work out like we think
And there's nothing there to ease this ache
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you, I'll just hang

I wish I could post on my forehead or other visibly prominent section of my epidermis :
"FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE
...Please"

All my life I've been knocked down, pushed in the ground and kicked around. I can't tell you how many times I've been told I shouldn't have been born. How I've cried at yet another disapointing friendship coming to an unnecessary end. I've been emotionally trashed, psychologically toyed with, physically made to feel helpless and spiritually tormented- and that is just by the hands of my family members. Think of what a toll this cruel and unforgiving society has inflicted upon me.

And yet, people are still so careless. They enter my heart and soul like a drunk enters a car, uncarring and relaxed, content until the end with whatever damage they may cause.

And though I am fragile, I am built to be quite resilient. Like Job, I take everything the Devil can give me and still manage to trust my Lord, Savior and friend to still provide salvation no mater the damnation I see lurking around every corner and in the eyes of everyone I seem to meet.

Despite all of my resilency and vivacious determination, I have a message for the world:

Be kinder to your bastard children, your widows, your divorcees, your psychologically instable. Haven't they suffered enough at the hands of Lucifer? Do not allow you body to house the foreign Agents of Sin, that is don't whore yourself out to Demons. Control your malicious thoughts and abusive language towards me and all of the other travelers. Do no harm, forgetting those who have harmed you.

I'm lucky, God has given me strength. Don't count on others to recover so well. Why be like a disease, defeating and consuming, when you could be the bringer of Light and show fruits of the spirit towards those around you and help them out of their personal, living hell?

That's all.

So i just finished watching Momento with Guy Pearce and I have a thought I must record:

Perhaps i so often have thoughts that i must record because if I didn't then I would forget them and if I forgot them I would have nothing to live for.

And scene.

I have a thought; Maybe I should wade out of all of this arsty, indepth, prose-like commentary on virtually NOTHING and I should perhaps use this medium as an actual form of communication. I don't know when my views of life became "deep" and "meaningful", but I have to say, I am begining to detest how much I end up whining on this thing. It's just so easy to assume that there is someone reading it that understands then it is to try and get all of this introspection out in speech. I guess everyone needs there outlets, but my goal for this new year is to change EVERYTHING about myself. I want to be quieter and more meaningful in person; Less like an excitable, but oh-so-loveable DOG and more like a tolerable human being. I guess that would involve forcing myself to stop thinking that every thought I have is worth sharing; Hence my attempts to cancel this here blog. But, since I haven't quite reached that level of self-sufficiency and contentment, I will simply entertain myself and write about how I wish I could stop writing. I will fill your mind with foreign thoughts and not think twice about it because it's what I do.

I could go on, I could talk about the weather and the joys of being snowed in, i could talk about my financial situation, I could talk about moving out of my parents house, I could even talk about driver's ed. But I can't bring myself to use words like they're disposable. I can't stand to not have the mean something. So it looks as though my only option is just to stop.

I wish my mom would have been the kind of Mom that fixed everything.

I wish just once I would have had the luxery of hearing "it's ok, it's ok, I'll fix it, don't worry..."

But I got a working mom.

I got an old, tired, poor, lonely, self-serving, been-there-done-that mother. I got fed formula by a babysitter and played with my brothers 13 year old hand me down toys instead of getting new Barbies and the subsequent acessories. Instead of interactive family play time and on the button 6PM family dinners, I got a television and a mickey mouse peanut-butter and jelly sandwich maker.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mom for all it's worth. I loved playing dress up in her clothes, I loved being carted around when she went on lunch dates with her girlfriends, I even loved going to work with her. But I would have prefered, instead of being groomed to be an old bitter, single mom, a chance to be a daughter. A chance to grow up under the protective wing of an overbearing, lovingly rebuking mother figure.

Instead, I'm a responsible adult who never grew up. I have a job, but no car because i was never taught to drive, I was only driven. I am self-sufficient, but completly dependant on that fact. i ahve no one and thats how I like it, because if i had someone I wouldn't be able to depend on the consistency of loneliness. I am an under-achieving genius because there is nothing to achieve. No boundaries were ever set to test, no expectations ever enforced. I have no goal to rebel against my parental unit, nor no drive to exceed the limitations placed on me by her expectations. I want to do well, but i am comfortable with not even existing. With never impacting the world around me. I have accomplished somethings, but nothing for anyone to notice because there's no one there to notice. With no reason to be and no one there to clean up after my mistakes, there is no reason for me to be and no reason for me not to be.

I am undone with no direction on how to be completed.
Like a puzzle with no final eding picture, such is a parentless child