Don’t know why I keep writing about you when I know that you are someone my words won’t reach

I give myself three days to feel better,
or else I swear I'll drive off a fucking cliff.
Because if I can't learn to make myself feel better,
then how can I expect anyone else to give a shit?

I fall in love with anything self-destructive

Sometimes I wake up with my head in my throat and my heart in my hands.

"You disappear so completely into your head sometimes," he said. "I wish I could follow you."

Im Going Insane

Staring into a broken reflection

of tarnished imperfection,

marred with syringes and drugs

each pill breaks me down like a bug

reaching my limit till I collapse.

Therapy increases thoughts of suicide,

realizing your promises were lies.

Distortion rakes my mind into falling apart

already failing, I've lost my heart,

only so much pain can be endured.

I think I'm going insane

because dying here in shame

I have pushed away everyone I know,

and having nothing to show

I'm finally letting go.

-juliet sinclarie

So is it my turn yet...?

It took my this long to realize that I was the only one when felt lonely without you. Don't you dare lie to me. I don't want to hear the sincerity in your voice. It's all a scam. You are a scam. If you ever felt as lonely as I did you would have come looking for me, like I did for you. Yet you sit there laughing, carelessly beside you friend.

I was the only one with a hole in my chest.

Is it okay for me to believe...
                      ....everything is going to be okay?
       Is it safe to let my insides come out?
                                                                                         I'm scared.
                                                 terrified.
What happens if nothing is okay?
                                              What will happen to me then?

            Who will love me?
                           cherish me?
                           loath me?
                           be there for me?

I... I... I'm scared of being left alone in the darkness.

Your wicked soul is my everything.

Quick Poem.

I just came up with this off the top of my head… Don’t expect it to be good.

I’m just a bird

held captive by a place called home

I’m caged away

under lock and key

no way for me to escape

so until it’s time

I’ll just lie here and rest.

I dream of the day I’ll be set free

to fly into the blue sky

I’ll travel high and far

see the world from up above

and although I’m scared of heights

I’ll take a breath before my flight

pray I’ll be alright

and jump.

Crooked Fingers
Crooked Toes
Crooked Nose
Crooked Soul

"A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the other's crazy?" Albert Einstein

I found out what we learn when we die
I found out the truth is all a big lie
I found out that words are hard to describe
I’ll tell you what we know now
It’s we run or we hide.-Bathroom stall

Feelings are tough. Memories are good.

wrote this last year while i was sick

Dandy lion

my shooting star

grant me a wish

I long to see.

I wish for happiness

and love.

It wasn’t long

before my wish came true.

Adored by many

loved by all.

Nothing but happiness blew my way.

I was in heaven,

or at least I think.

I thought life couldn't get better,

then the rain began to pour.

I ran inside and dove under the covers.

My eyes opened

and I realized it was all a dream.

That moment you realize you know enough Spanish (and have Google translate bookmarked) that you can read a full Spanish novel.

Ahh, the joy. :)

You are the prettiest thing ever just like the sea, but when I look deeper all I see is darkness.

You have to hold on to me...

                                                                     ...Please.

I sometimes forget not to love you

            It was the same nightmare I've been having for months—the one where my mother, my siblings, and I were out hiking. Why a woman, who’s right leg alone was insured for $1.5 million would be out hiking I did not know. Back then I just wondered why she would go through such a dangerous path in 6’ nail thin heels. But that was my mother 33 year old runway model, face of Victoria Secret. Always wearing heels, push up bras and racy clothing.

            I only realized we came upon a clearing when I crashed into the back of momma legs. Big brother quickly helped stopped momma from stumbling. Once she had regained her hand on hip, hips trusted forward stance she always wore, she turned to scowl at me. As if suddenly remembering something she smiled and turned back to the barren field which lacked even grass.

            “Let’s sit for a picnic.” She had said. “This will be fun.” She said. “Mother-children time.” Her eyes lovingly looked at the three of us.

            We sat, we joked, and just before we began eating sister had to pee so momma took her into the woods. My brother and I sat there in silence as I downed one of the ice creams. After a few minutes I began to get antsy momma and big sis hadn't come back yet. Brother said he was going to check on them and told me to wait. I watched my brother walk into the darkness of the trees I got up and silently followed after him.

            I saw him say something to momma before she quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him away. I saw mommas back as she walked away. Just before the three disappeared my 8 year old big sister turned around and locked eyes with me for a second before turning back. I didn’t bother hiding behind a tree I was standing in the open.

            They had left me. In the woods. With food. And a hungry wolf.

Just something from a project I'm working on.

I am afraid of how disappointed you will be when I do not meet your expectations. 

Where do we run to when the things we believe in vanish before our eyes?

Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”

I'm just a Devil dressed as an Angel.

Whatever you decide, decide. Both feet in or both feet out. Anything inbetween is what gets you dead.

     I don't know myself.
     I don't know what I want or how I feel or how I should feel and I don't think I ever really have.

 I’m no expert in this… In the beginning it was a thrill I chased. But the one who has been begging for release is you, isn't it?

[ Me just thinking to myself as I scroll passed a hello kitty Tumblr pic ] I meow people when I realize...... Meow? What? Lol.

Hot Chocolate & Good Music.

     I was writing my story just now and the MC gets wet (nudge nudge wink wink) for the first time and I just started thinking about the first time I got wet. To be honest I completely freaked. I was like "OMG. What the hell is this?" I was 14 and had never been turned on before in my life. By the way, this is also how I figured out what my fetish is.
     I still remember I was in freshmen history class. I was assigned a seat at a table full of boys, who by this time I was good friends with thanks to many other classes in common. There was a boy I liked and we used to openly flirt with each other, even in front of the class. So one day we are talking about why I do not wear dresses and what not when suddenly he reaches his large hand (because he was like 5'6" , 5'7" and had these humongous hands, quite appropriately sized for his stature) between my thighs and just pulled one leg towards him. I mean with so much force that my body literally shifted into his direction. I was beyond shocked.
     No one at the table, let alone the class, knew what happened [his hand was under the table obviously] but this boy (my obvious stalker who I later needed guarding against) noticed and asked me what was wrong. I smiled, blushed fire truck red, and said nothing was wrong. Few seconds later he did it again, this time I only turned a little. He continued to do that every time I stole my leg back.  At some point I decided to go to the bathroom so he could leave me alone (not that I actually wanted him to). On my way to the bathroom though I noticed I was slimy in my nether regions.
     I almost ran to the bathroom freaking out. I did not know what it was but I cleaned my self off. It was not until later that night in my bed when I was thinking every thing over that I realized I was wet and had gotten wet at school earlier. That was when I realized I like when a guy is rough with me.
     And boy was this he rough with me. I'm not too sure how many bruises he gave me in a matter of six months but it was definitely enough for two years.

my perfect guy

would be strong, but not so strong he looks like a weight lifter
would be sweet, but not sweeter than me

would be smart, but not smart enough to make me feel illiterate
would be cute, but not so cute he looks like a girl

would be kind, he would help an old lady cross the road and end up walking her home
would be honest, moderately
would be funny, enough to be a professional comedian
would be political, enough to inform me about how corrupt our country is
would be adventurous, enough to whisk me away to Bombay
would be mature, enough to talk about periods
would be decisive, enough for the both of us
would be a pillar, support me in everything I do (even if he knows I could never make it)
would be a reader, and live in the land of fairy tales alongside me (with dragons of course)

      On my writing site I received a comment thanking me for thanking them for becoming my fan. {sorry if that's too confusing} The person went out to say that a lot of the writers she had fanned in the last couple weeks {108 writers} did not take the time to thank her. I found this very depressing but even I have noticed that. I understand if you get like 20+ new fans a day but even a mass message thanking them for their support would be great. When writers get in touch and thank their fans the fans themselves feel happy and giddy just like the writer who took time out of their day to send them a quick little message.

     When I replied to them I told them I appreciate every fan I receive because if I had none I know I would have quit writing a long time ago because I would have thought I was not good enough. I feel people should really appreciate everything little thing especially if it is something that supports you in your dream. I was disappointed when I looked at her other messages and out of 108 no one thanked her.

     If you'll excuse me I am going to eat a corn muffin && hot coco, for the second time today.

The pain, the pleasure, and the shame all drive me crazy and what gets me the most is that he claims he’s losing control, and yet he sees right through my most desperate attempts. I can’t stand it.

A good woman is proud. She respects herself and others.
She is aware of who she is. She neither seeks definition
from the person she is with, nor does she expect them to
read her mind. She is quite capable of articulating her needs.

A good woman is hopeful. She is strong enough to make all
her dreams come true. She knows love, therefore she gives
love. She recognizes that her love has great value and must be
reciprocated. If her love is taken for granted, it soon disappears.

A good woman has a dash of inspiration and a dabble of endurance.
She knows that she will at times have to inspire others to reach
their full potential. A good woman knows her past, understands
her present and forces toward the future. 

A good woman does not live in fear of the future because of her
past. Instead, she understands that her life experiences are
merely lessons meant to bring her closer to self-knowledge and
unconditional self-love.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't go visit you. I just could not face you. The man I always loved who took me to school and reminded me to wear shorts under my skirts is not you anymore. You've very nearly lost your mind. You don't remember my name and when you do you punish me for something that happened fifteen years ago. Hatred staining that wrinkled face of yours. The next second you tear up howling at the top of your lungs, "Who hurt my little girl? I'll kill them." You're not the man you were twenty years ago. I just couldn't face this person who stood before me. I'm really so sorry, Grandfather.

I used to write so effortlessly, so eloquently, without pressing the backspace key, without having to rethink the entire idea. The entire thought. But now, I stare at my keyboard, and I press the keys with hesitancy. If I get lucky, there are days where my mind is so full of passion and creativity, where I don’t have to hesitate on my choice of words. Where it’s heart and soul, poured into a teakettle and left to boil until is whistles my secrets into the ears of those willing to hear them. Poured into a teacup, steaming with desire to wisp into the air and disappear into the sound waves. Sip on my thoughts, but you’re not allowed to add sugar if it’s too bitter. See, it’s raw. There’s nothing else to add, but it’s only to enjoy. But some days, where my luck is on the run — I’m left with processed thoughts filled with societies fat doubts, drenched in the grease of my own doubts also. Pressed between the buns of ludicrousness. See, sometimes I have my mind — and other days, I’m left on a vicious cycle trying to catch it.

I'm so scared of the dark. I see shadows roaming. I think I'm going crazy. The shadows crawl across my floor and jump up five feet. They make noise as they move unconcerned with my presence. It scares me. They are here for me. They want to eat me. I am so alone. There is so much out there I don't know.
Someone, make it all go away.

I looked at her until she saw me

            “No really. Thank you. I was thinking of just going crazy black girl on their ass. I’m glad you managed to find another satisfying way of getting revenge. Tearing up that face she tries so hard to protect.” Again I only shrugged. After a while of silence she spoke again. “Hey, Snow,” She began. Her voice was low, sweet, hesitant but confident. “want to try dating?

            My head snapped to her face. “Just because I’m bisexual does not mean I will date anyone.” I proclaimed insulted.

            “Yeah, no, I know. But face it snow, you aren’t really good at keeping your crushes a secret. I mean, you tricked me into grinding against you when we were ten.”

            “I-I was ten. It’s been four years since then, my taste could have changed. I mean if I liked you back then and all…” I spoke away from her not having the confidence to say it to her face.

            She called to me; her voice laced in sarcasm. She continued repeating my name until I turned to her. She was so close the corners of our lips touched as I turned. She backed her face away a little so she could examine my face properly. “Then why are you blushing?”

            “B-because! O-o-ou-our lips just touched! Anyone who doesn’t have much experience would blush!” I tried to talk my way out of it but my body was stiff with excitement. “Besides, if I did date you I would just be a rebound. It’s kind of messed up that you would do that to me. And! You don’t even like girls. You shouldn’t try dating girls just because you think since most girls know how it feels to be hurt she won’t hurt you. Girls can hurt boys too you know. Girls hurt ten times worst. Just look at the tramp. Apparently she had a boyfriend too. She cheated on her sophomore, and baby daddy, boyfriend with an eighth grader. That’s among the biggest insults you could do to a guy in high school.”

            She was silent for a while. I was squirming in my spot unsure, nervous, and excited. She was right about one thing; I was no good at keeping my crushes a secret especially after getting kissed by them. I kept thinking about how soft that corner of her lips was. How delicious the taste of tequila tasted on her lips. I bite my lip remembering it. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

            I stood in front of him. I could hear the silent sobs in his throat. Tears falling onto his clenched hands. Looking up at me his long black straight hair just slightly covered his eyes. It was a beautifully sad sight. A handsome angel crying in grief over the loss of his brother. The sadness and madness evident in his angry cold dark blue eyes as they set themselves upon me. His streaked tears made his pale skin glisten in the lamps light. I had planned to only pay my respects. I had not planned to take hold of him and hold him close until his tears disappeared. I had not planned on his tears.

            Those wretched poisons fiends.

            “Leave.” His voice nothing but a sharpened knife. Ignoring his words I walked forward, my bare feet against the floor echoing in the silent room. His clenched hands unwound themselves and quickly gripped my exposed thighs. My heart beat rapidly in my chest.

            I was scared.

            The way his hate filled eyes stared into me and the way he tightly gripped my thighs told me to be careful. To be afraid. Still I could not leave him alone.

            I ignored the pain on my thighs and walked forward. His warm breath blew onto my stomach. Our body heats touching. Recoiling. I took one last step. My legs were in between both of his. He squeezed my thighs tighter. My hand stroked his cheek. Slowly he buried his face in my stomach, his nose just above my navel. I could feel his wet eyelashes against my skin. His arms circled around my legs squeezing me tightly against his chest. He was strong for a couple seconds before the most beautiful waterfall fell down his cheeks. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him tighter to me, like a mother would to her child. I slowly stroked his back comforting him. His salty tears fell onto my stomach. He sobbed silently. I didn’t know what to do or say so I just stood there letting him cry on me. It broke my heart knowing this happened because of me.

            I was the reason for his tears. If I had only chosen this would have never happened. Now not only did we lose someone we cared for but we lost each other. There is no way he could ever forgive me for what I did.

            If I had just listened...

            No, even then. If I had never gotten myself in that situation everything could have been avoided. If I had never let this happen they wouldn't have gotten into an argument. We would have never gone to that bridge. The car would have never passed by.

            Joseph would still be alive.

            Jonathan would still love me.

            And I would still be happy.

Just a white lie.

     "It was just a little white lie." He said with a small smile on his lips.
     "Nothing is small." She assured.
     "I believe you called her small and insignificant." His smirk was that of a cat catching a mouse by the tail.
     "Ah, let me rephrase. No lies are small....." She began to pile up the dirty dishes that sat upon the table. "Lies are like ships; they take time to build, once it gets off the coast it has a sea to across and sometimes they get caught in storms and plunge into the depths all within a matter of seconds everything can be destroyed and everyone aboard losses something or everything.
     The same applies to the boy who cried wolf. He told so many little white lies and in the end no one believed him. But by that point your ship has already sunk. It's already too late to dump cargo. All because a little white lie was told."
     "Then Miss. Waitress, how are your ships doing?" He asked as she walked away.
     She stopped before answering. "That depends," She looked at him over her shoulder "on which your talking about and whether or not it was on purpose." She smiled at him a kind of malicious hidden agenda smirk. It told him of a mystery he wouldn't want to uncover. A mystery too dangerous to be fun.
     He was better off and Miss. Waitress went missing that night.

Kiss after kiss,
Boy after boy,
Frog after frog,

None,
                       None,
          None.
Were her true love.

After some time she began to wonder
Perhaps true love was a lie
This curse was only a game
placed upon her by her jealous sister.