We’ve got a big mess on our hands

July 7, 2009

Damn, guilt.

How do you uninvite someone to go somewhere with you? Like the Vans Warped Tour, perhaps? Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut? I was looking to take someone my age, or a little older, but not her. We like a couple of the same bands but I just can’t see myself at a Chiodos set with her. I can’t see myself meeting John O’Callaghan from The Maine with her either.

Maybe her mom won’t let her go, but that’s selfish of me, isn’t it? Though this isn’t just anyone, this is Sarah. Sarah and I… we aren’t the same. We are friends but we are very different people. This is the girl likes to start arguments over silly misunderstandings, the girl who called me a bitch. I know those things are over and done with now, but I’m mainly just searching for excuses. I guess I shouldn’t bother inviting anyone to Warped Tour. Everything I say is a mess.

If I don’t bring it up again, maybe nothing will happen. I should just stick to keeping my concerts a secret from my friends like I did during the school year. If that’s going to work MY MOTHER needs to keep her mouth shut and stop bragging to people about it. I like to keep things secret, understood? What am I going to do?

In the words of William Beckett,
We’ve got a big, big mess on our hands tonight
Somebody get my phone so I can throw it in a public pool
and watch it float
And as it’s slowly sinking down become a social ghost

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I’m Sorry

July 5, 2009

7/5/09

I’m sorry;
it’s easier for me to write these things than say them.
I just can’t back down,
I can’t “lose”.
I don’t want to have to give in to apologies.
Showing that maybe we are even,
when I want to be one point ahead.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me.”
Why, that is a lie.
People tell me all the time
that my words are more powerful than I think.
I never believed them because I was the person
on the other side.
The one saying all those hurtful things.

I was frustrated, but I know it was uncalled for.
How did I let just one word slip from my mouth?
I’m sorry, I truly am.
After the guilt settled in my stomach
I knew I would have to say it.
That I AM sorry, but I can’t.
It seems I’ve gone mute
and shame myself for all that I’ve ever said.
Hide away in my room,
embarrassed.

It has never been easy for me, saying sorry.
Sometimes I say it with my fingers crossed behind my back,
other times I mumble it,
and now I finally do mean it.
Yet I can’t come to say it to your face
because you have won in this “battle”
(that you don’t know you’re playing).

You might forgive me, maybe not.
Though something similar might just happen again,
but things just won’t be the same.
I could be making a big deal out of this,
but it was a pretty bad idea.
I just didn’t take the time to think,
well, I guess I did, but it just came out of my mouth
rather then staying put inside my head.

Will this have to end in slamming doors
or will you read this and forgive me?
I know I’m in trouble
and the guilt keeps nagging, “Stop keeping me in suspense!”
Maybe by the time you read this, things will have cooled off.
I am at loss of words all I can say is,
I’m sorry.


I’m sinking like a stone in the sea.

June 6, 2009

6/6/09

I keep taking deep breaths because it feels like forgot how to breathe. I breathe too slow or to quick; not taking in enough oxygen or too much air. During the school year my little brother would breathe through his mouth heavily. Sometimes he would cry at night and I didn’t know why. It annoyed me terribly and I kept trying to explain to him why he didn’t need to breathe that way. Now I know the feeling. All of the sudden in the middle of the day I think, I don’t know what to do. You are probably thinking, About what? Well, I don’t know either. I just feel so utterly overwhelmed by everything. It’s summer time, right? I shouldn’t bother having to feel this way, but I do. And I am scared. I don’t know what will happen in a few hours or even a few days. Nobody really does. I mean, you might have a few events mapped out, but you don’t know what those moments of the day will feel like.

I went to my mother for advice and what she said was, “Just go and babysit. Once when you get home you can figure out what to do next.” I liked this idea, but this is all new for me. I’m used to planning out my day and setting goals, whether I realized it or not. This unpredictable schedule is throwing me off a bit. Today, I don’t want this day to slip away from me like all the other days do. Wasted and chasing time. Please time, stand still for only a day or two.

Brand New’s album Deja Entendu feels like my soundtrack. The events probably don’t quite match up, but the instrumentals capture my mood. In some songs Jesse Lacey almost whispers and I turn up my volume to savor his words. Especially in “Tautou”, which is one of my favorites though it’s only a minute and a half long.

I want to make this day last, but I don’t seem to know how. All I know is that I don’t want Monday to come. Please, not yet. If everyday was Saturday then I’d be fine with that. I’m still confused why I’m scared of what is next to come….


Maybe “finding yourself” is part of the process as well.

April 11, 2009

04/10/09

You’re so brilliant, don’t soon forget. You’re so brilliant, grace marked your heart. — Anberlin “The Unwinding Cable Car”

These words stain me in the best possible way. Though if anyone were to ever say them to me, they would sound fake. Untrue and dishonest. Cheesy, even. These words are not meant to be repeated, for the purpose would dull. I’m just a dreamer. It seems vivid fantasies dance through my head. Words etch themselves across my skull. I create plots and scenes for movies or books I will never write. I am impatient and I have no idea what to do with these ideas. I dream I’ll become a guitarist. Sometimes I even write out interviews I’d have with people in my head. Things I would say onstage. Music racks through my brain and occasionally they will escape my lips in the form of a hum. I live in my head and in the best moments of the past. After each concert I try hard to remember each feeling and moment I witnessed or felt. And I don’t think I’ll ever officially realize the past is over. I close my eyes and become lost in thought.


Be Somebody

March 4, 2009

If I had to choose one song to die to, I would never be able to choose. Thursday’s “Understanding In a Car Crash” is just so perfect to me. Almost like poetry. The lyrics are just so brutal and beautiful. The guitar puts you on edge as goosebumps crawl up and down your arms and legs. Hot tears bubbling at your eyes; deep breaths.

So push the seats back a little further
Roll the windows down and take a breath
I can see the headlights coming
They paint the world in red and broken glass
The spinning hubcaps set the tempo for
the music of a broken window
When the lights are on and the cameras click
We open up the lens to broken glass and it’s over in a flash

Or another favorite of mine is “The Scientist” by Coldplay. The lyrics, Nobody said it was easy. Nobody said it would be so hard. ring in my ears like they are something to live by. Honestly, living is the hard part, death could be rather easy. You just die. That’s it. Everything. Gone. Over. Nothing more than that. Now Lovedrug’s “Doomsday and the Echo” is oh so lovely. I adore every last lyric to this song. I cannot even begin to explain how much I love it. “Everything Starts Where it Ends” is brilliant as well, though there is something about “Doomsday and the Echo” that makes me itch over each sentence as though I should be analyzing it.

Can’t walk it off
Can’t come clean
               Later going on to…

Hey, just woke up and already I’m a losing
Messed up everything again
Drink up, pass the gun again
Hey, just woke up and already I’m a losing
Messed up everyone again
Someone pass the gun again

I got to thinking about this subject after thinking I was a failure. Playing guitar is one of my dreams and I have to succeed at it. Guitar lessons have been going… not so good. At least I don’t feel I’ve been doing nearly good enough. I want to friggen’ shred! I want to riff and rock. I want to be up on stage, sweat dripping from my body. Being a phenomenal performer such as Jason Hale or Jimi Hendrix. The spectacular sound as well, maybe the cleanest you’ve ever heard? I want to be the best of the best. Each lesson I’d like to be told I am amazing at guitar even if I am still a beginner. I would love for those words to be spoken honest and truthful. I guess plan “B”, which is writing, is what I should try to shoot for, for now. I’ll do my best to improve my writing each and every day. Giving every writing assignment 110% percent whether it is stupid or not. As most have you have heard the saying, “No problem.” let me introduce a new one to you all. No promises. 

Reader,  I don’t fully understand myself either, but leaving earth with a sad song just seems like a good way to go. When I die I want to be cremated, I want my (Alleged I suppose. Though trust me, Kat Von D IS going to tattoo me.) tattoos to tell my story before I am burned to ashes. I want them to play one of my song choices for death. I want to be remembered.

Current song of choice at the moment, “The Undertaker’s Thirst For Revenge Is Unquenchable (The Final Battle)” by Chiodos.

And all the world’s a stage
I existed because I dreamed
And well, I dream no more
I’ve given up on the entire human race


The Little Things

February 2, 2009

Today I was at least hopeful, and not completely negative. In fact I was secretly excited to go to PE, but keep that a secret. I’m trying hard to focus on my work when Sarah, Veronica, and I get to talking about the Katy Perry concert. Veronica: “I really want to go, but my mom says no since it’s at a bar. But I might get to see The Killers!” My heart sinks. I cannot remember if I spilled the beans or what, but I pray to god that the tickets will soon be sold out before she gets her hands on them. Me: “Oh.” That was all I managed to say. Veronica is barely a Killers fan; I wish I could strangle her right now. I come back with, “Yeah, I love The Killers. I have all their albums.” I understand that was a total cat-ish thing to do, but to be honest, that was what I was aiming for. Yeah, yeah, she knows one song. In my book, that is called a poseur fan. You might not understand how it can get under my skin so much, but I like doing things on my own. Without friends to ask to “hang out” with me when all they do insult me.

 Sarah speaks, “Phoenixx don’t take this the wrong way, but my brother thinks-” I finish for her, “That I’m to young to go to Warped Tour. I know, you told me.” She goes on about how he said I was too young to go to concerts, listen to this kind of music, “besides I might think I know what they are talking about, but I really don’t”. Now, the last of that sentence was a quote. All I could think was, WHY DOES HE (YOU) ****ING CARE?!?!?! It’s not like it is any of his business. Note to self: Never speak of any concerts near my “friends”… ever. This is one reason why I love to isolate myself from everyone. Just when I’ve dusted myself back off, they bite back with words. I reply to Sarah, “What I am I supposed to listen to, Hannah Montana?!?!?!” I wish I could scream in her face. In fact both of them, but I’ve got a “good girl” reputation and I wish I could show them my venom.

 Later that day Madeline comes over to me, “Phoeni, I can’t believe you are gonna bail on me with the Katy Perry concert!” I’m sorry, but I would like to save my money for other concerts and merchandise money. I reply to her, “I’m sorry, but I wanted to see The Killers.” “Yeah, but still.” she continues. I respond, “Yeah, but it’s THE KILLERS.” Veronica was sitting next to me. Of course then she starts talking about bands, which leads to a dream she had, which leads to money. With that someone asks what she would do with the money. Veronica: “Um, go to concerts, buy clothes, shoes.” Go to concerts was her first answer. I know for a fact she wouldn’t even have thought about it if I hadn’t brought it up. God, why do I have to be such an idiot?!

I suppose, I shouldn’t get mad over things so little as these, but it’s the little things that make me itch.