the holiday and its cheer

dkfjwkrisfikjdwlpz.

^^ that shows my frustration because i had a blog all written up and then tried to insert two links..and pretty much the whole thing got deleted. anyways, i'll continue on with my head in my hands as i was before..

i did not realize how tired i was.
and not because i've been basically running around with my head chopped off and my organs spilling out for the past five days but because i have lead myself up to this break without actually, ironically, taking a break. so i have made the executive decision that i will either be spending the last 13 days of my break with only myself, and not because i'm going to end up being an old lady living in a box, but because i never spend *any* time with just me, myself, and i. that or with the people that i really need to see more; as i come to think of it, i haven't seen my best friend in over four days nor talked to her. that calls for some drastic measures of time going to be better well spent.

and now, before i wish you all the most fantastic holidays (Christmas is onlyyyyy FIVE, count them: FIVE, days away..and Hanukkah is already completely wonderful), i must recommend everyone to mr. chad. sugg. whom is the official cheer for the new year along with a god to the music industry. treat yourselves to good hours with his music blasting. i guarantee that it will make you smile. trust me on that:

http://www.purevolume.com/backseatgoodbye
http://www.myspace.com/backseatgoodbye

cheers,
shayna.

11:42..

..it's elevenfortytwo.

something has compelled me to pour myself out again in a text box for all to judge at.
my english book sits unread in front of me

pages waiting to be discovered, plots waiting to be unfolded.
words ready to be comprehended, words set to be put to action.
discolored sheets giving clue to aged use, to secrets held and fantasies portrayed.

i wonder if i'll ever make it like that,
ever make a child giggle at rhyming sentences compounding into a silly story,
soothe a worried mother on how to connect with her slipping daughter,
create a relationship between the unbeliever and the imagination left so long in the dust,
tear a teenage apart in the harsh realities of a story that connects all too much with her heart,
allow youth to be let into a soul of a broken old man for the days he missed in the army.

i wonder if i can make that difference..

or i'll just work along the side of my own fiction

music

music seems to be my saving grace these days.
the rhythmic tune lures, the lyrics confess, the instruments promise.
is it a fault to be captivated? is it a fault to be saved? is it a fault to be freed?
and then as soon as it starts, as soon as my mind seems to relieve itself and ease the frustrations, a skip in the song will occur. and for that single moment, i switch back to reality and realize that everything is beginning to be lost. then, the music will blare again and i'll tumble into a false security that i can hold to my heart for two minutes and fifteen seconds, three minutes, four minutes and a half. however long the sounds touch my ears for, i'm gone.

my eyes close,
my body sways,
my soul is opened and skinned
to the bare nakedness
to which everyone should reach with something in their lives.

and i can't help but wonder.
if the place i have made for myself in this world is only safe for however long the song plays..why don't i just press repeat on my player, turn up the volume, and fly on through?

words swallowed.

charles bukowski once wrote that there will always be something to ruin our lives, it just depends on who or what finds us first.

last night time stopped for a moment when i had a misconception about words that someone said to me.
i overreacted, i jumped to conclusions, i made an unjust confrontation because i was scared of what those words meant to me, if they meant anything at all, if they meant everything. i thought for awhile that i was right, that she was wrong, and that eventually i would get my way. but after more pain was pitched to one another, i realized that my pride and i, myself and i, were going to have to suck it up and take it down the right way. so then i thought that since i did that, things weren't going to be so bad anymore. but that opened me to something more.

for as much as i had hoped i could blame what had happened, what had been happening, on something and someone innocent, i couldn't. it wasn't fair and it's still not.

i have apologizes to make, i have words to swallow and i have to realize that i've got to get things under control and i've got to myself down the right path.

otherwise; i'm not sure where or why or when or what is going to fly because right now, my wings are breaking.

moore road,

its ironic that a contest for expression and artistic independence is limited to a theme. that when creativity should be at a high, it's restricted because of the fear of what lies beneath a sentence of what "one's favorite place is"
on what happens if a favorite place isn't just a room where happiness is stored but an entire world of possibility? what happens when a favorite place includes more than the boundary of four walls but expands to an exceptional amount of what is beyond that. GUCI is that place for me. and it's not easy to say to someone who hasn't been there that this place, this home, is the *only place that makes me feel alive. i can walk these streets at home here, i can breath this air here, i can talk to the people here, but without my place for me, my place just for me, i wouldn't get up in the morning and i wouldn't take steps on the sidewalk. so when tears spring my eyes, when pain fills my heart, i know that i can look through the lens of my camera and see the magic there; frozen for a second in time on how happy i was, how happy we all were. the reason that i urn for something more is that i know that as soon as the car turns onto Moore Road, i leave who i've been and i become who i want to be. for more than half of the year, i try to fit back into myself but it seems that each time i get comfortable, pieces chip or break off. after awhile its exhausting to try to glue everything into one when i know that it won't perfectly feel right until i touch my fingers to the wooden door proclaiming hallelujah, my feet running along the greener grass. and all to soon, its gone. the grounds have muddied, the smiles have cracked, the reality takes over and wins. when i'm home, in my favorite place, i know that i can trust myself to just be without worrying about who i'm being, just act without worrying of how i'm acting, and just live for the sake of the goddamn sunshine that captivates every single memory and makes it beautiful for that much longer.

so if it seems like i'm moving but i'm still stuck, its because i can't keep going without knowing where i'll end up. if i'll end up. or if i'll give up.

and so take this breath with me, hold my hands tight and sing to me tonight.
make me believe and make me see that once my eyes are opened to my favorite place again, colors fly and dreams are born to this run down world that i keep locked away from my heart, for i fear with the utmost confidence that once i let in something more than the best, something more than what i've found, i'll forget and i'll walk on, without destination, without a turn onto Moore Rd. so just let me be with me tonight and find a light too bright , a fantasy too full, a heart all too ready.

emotion

it bothered me tonight when i tried to remember her voice, i couldn't.

the rich, airy, sweet words that never failed to bring a smile forth to even the most unhappiness, isn't echoing anymore.
its been almost three, maybe four, weeks and tears still spring from my eyes because i can't remember.

marci gorospe is someone who i promised myself that i could never and would never ever ever forget.

but now without her vibrant voice or her fresh smile, i feel emotions digging too deeply into me than i'm comfortable with.
i feel as though i should be constantly thinking of her, constantly doing things for her, in memory of her.
but i can't bring myself to visit the grave site, to place a flower upon a headstone for someone who deserves to still be alive.
that would be accepting that she won't be back, that my torment to myself isn't worth anything at all because she won't be back.
my petty arguments have an underlying motive from guilt,
my smiles are plastered to perfection in order to protect myself more than anyone else.
i know that as long as i try to bring it back into my mind, there isn't anything to bring that beauty back.

that's the scariest part of it all.

It's nice to know

"It's nice to know from time to time that you didn't just appear when you woke up this morning - and that for better and for worse, the way you are is the way you've always been."

john mayer is the one and only that can explain life and its most difficult questions with a half ass-tongue out of mouth grin


remember kids, go the full circle because sometimes when things are the shittiest, it takes a goofy laugh to clear up the clouds.

even if its for just a second

Destination

when i walk through the halls at school
i purposely put my feet to a destination
but my mind doesn't seem to focus upon one thought as i wander about
i see the corners hidden around the turns and paths
and wish that if only i could run to them

maybe someone would see me
and maybe someone would sit with me

but then, the bell rings
and i open my notebook, take out a pencil, and push out
any freedoms i held as i wandered.
for a straight fourty minutes my eyes dart back and forth
wondering if anyone else knows any of my secrets
and if anyone else knows any of my feelings
if anyone sees through my smile to the tears that
spring from my eyes after a day regretted and a day exhausted, over and done with
should i forgive those pushes? should i foget those disapproving glances?
or do i just imagine it all?
wishing that for once someone would be beside me
during this nightmare
to hold my hand and kiss my heart,
to hide in corners when i can't go on
and to not judge, to simply cry when tears fall
and to simply love me for i am imperfect and i am unsure and i am scared.

I wonder.

words unspoken may break something beautifully constructed
words screamed from the mountain tops may never change the answer
words may bring forth confusion,
conflict,
and inconsistency


words may kill the strongest, words may birth the weakest.
but wherever, whatever, and whomever
spoken at, spoken from, or spoken to
words are simply words
until placed conveniently with an over looked emotion
unfelt and unspoken for almost unbearably too long.

and yet, when confronted with these words
that should provide confidence, closure, and comfort,
simply fall apart into their own separate letters
refusing to piece into one
to allow one's mind to begun eased, one's heart to be consoled,
one is be one without any other and only that own one.

Autum

i was walking home yesterday after school and i got to thinking:
when did it turn into fall?
i mean, the last time i checked, it was something like 90 degrees and we were all wearing shorts. but when i looked up from my staring at my shoes as they automatically walked the path home, i realized that a new season was upon us. then i saw the hundreds of leaves on the sidewalk, lacing the street, falling from the trees carelessly. so, why hadn't i ever taken the time to watch the things around me before? it wasn't as if i had some immediate conflict between me and the world so why hadn't i simply let my mind wander, my feet carry me down the road, and relax? why wasn't i able to take an easy, slow pace home, and not let the drama of the day overcome me and overwhelm me? i threw my hands up in the air, put my CD player back into my book bag and forced myself to look at the leaves. directly in front of me, i noticed a small, perfectly structured one falling rhythmically to the wind. i patiently waited the second more until it had barely touched the ground when i menacingly lifted my left foot and dramatically crushed the poor thing. the next leaf that fell, i did the same action. for the rest of my walk, i hopped along, stomping the leaves under my feet. i didn't feel any better when i unlocked my front door but i did feel somewhat at an ease. being able to just accept, move on and go forth, isn't something i do very often. but i suppose that all it took was a little stomp.

masked silence

there are thoughts that seem to overpower my mind at night when the lights are dimmed and music plays in my room, when my eyes dart from the familar corners of my room until i wear myself out. the pictures that are developed over and over again bring back painful memories of moments lost and moments loved. i continue to tell myself that there is a difference between isolation and seperation. when do i become a being walking the streets, missing the important parts such a liver, an arm, a heart. what matters the most, because i'm not going to pull a "nothing matters" or a "i have great friends but i feel no comfort" because those aren't true. however, somewhere deep into me where no one will ever be allowed to cross past, are secrets never told and salvations never reached. peace is short lived in these nights as sleep pushes over the urge to remain alert and anything to keep the thoughts from eating at my flesh, tearing at my souls. i believe that whenever an emotion surfaces, i must analyze, consider, and throw out due to incalculable cons. there are nights when i wish i could never sleep for it doesnt provide a secreity but only a harsher reality when my eyes are opened to the darkened world. i am not a killer but i am not a lover. i do not forfeit but i do not fight. and until i can relinquish everything and anything and everything and anything i have so falesly created in attempted utopia;
i can not be me.
[[tonight will be difficult, tonight will an insulted lament.
the only ease for twisted mind i can confide with
is that with no doubt tommorow will be worse
tommorow will be bring forth a cursed hearse
that not she, not her, not me, not i will allow myself to bring on the day
for all is feared, sneered, and tiered with struggle and anguish.
that tommorow will be soon forgetten
as it is melted and molded into tonight.
and then another today
and another tommorow.
i want not answers, i ask not questions.]]

one of god's angels

there's something about marci gorospe that only a few in this world have. she was a beautiful, young, intelligent, caring and patient woman who deserved none of this pain. for the months that we knew her, mrs. gorospe would smile as if she were on top of the world even though she couldn't have been any lower down. no one told her directly how much we loved her and now we can't which shows you that we must live in the moment, and truly thank those who make our lives worth living. she obviously had no choice to live the life her husband forced upon her for she was too sweet and loving of a person to try and escape the disgusting hold he had on her. there are no words on how much marissa made us love coming to school to simply see her eccentrically optimistic attitude, setting everyone before her needs. there may have been signs, there may not have been. but all we know is that now one of god's angels is murdered for the satisfaction of the sickest monster on this earth.

rest in peace mrs. gorospe for you will be missed, loved, and remembered eternally.

Only So Much

"when you can't lean on anyone else
you learn the most about yourself."

it's ironic on how one spends their whole life trying to discover who they are but who ever says that that someone actually wants to? i sure don't want to know who i am, i'm already seeing peaks and points of that and i don't like it. of course, i'm too much of a wimp to take control and not continue to swerve off the sides of the road because my hands shake too much everytime i try to take the wheel. i'll admit it, i'm a music addict and i have no plans of cutting off cold turkey any time soon because i think that would create some sort of universal shutdown. but i'd like to ask why i believe those lyrics in love songs or become teary in romantic movies. oh okay, i'm a girl so that means i'm automatically going to be as emotional as the next woman who walks past me. not exactly that textbook. and no, we're not all created the same way because who ever believed that in the beginning? maybe i'm preaching to the wrong choir here but i'm really just doing this all for me. there's only so much that any one at all understands about each other whether they be young, old, boy, girl, whatever. but then again, there is only so much that each of those whatevers can know about themselves. and again, so much that we want to know. trust me, when you feel lonely, the last thing you want to do is get down and dirty with your own mind and delve into the depths of hell. i dont know about you but i dont have any intention of figuring out what i'm all about because at least i know that whatever is going in my imagination, is something that i don't particually want to open. so when you have no one to lean on, when you feel like giving up, and maybe i'll admit that i'm feeling pretty much like turning in the towel, do you really learn the most about yourself? or do you just look at your hands shaking and let go of the wheel?

Reminder

As the sharp point penetrates the skin
Warm blood rushes from the wound
Like Pandora's box
Evil runs a trail along side innocence
Cleanliness merges with filth
There's no explanation for the scar
That will soon form from the weakness
Constant reminder
Of pain and suffering
Re-surfacing when irritated and
Disturbed
Never will it be covered
Or cleaned
For as the sharp point penetrates skin
Warm blood will rush from
The wound

[to be continued]

Questions

These many questions

What the hell is your lousy suggestion?

Now that the minutes have gone by

Quicker than a blink of an eye

Take off that black tie of deception

I’m through making these exceptions

How do we love each other this much?

How do we cry for each other this many tears?

How do we hold each other this tight?

Why don’t we laugh?

Why don’t we smile?

Why is it that we die inside when we’re apart?

What will the future bring?

What time will the real thing begin?

What is there left to hope for?

Where can we escape to?

Where have we let our love lie?

Where will you take me when it’s over in a goodbye?

These many questions

What the hell is your lousy suggestion?

Now that the minutes have gone by

Quicker than a blink of an eye

Take off that black tie of deception

I’m through making these exceptions

These things aren’t fair

I shouldn’t have care

That times around you are so hard to bear

Help me move on and leave insanely delicious affair

I really hate you more than I’ll ever know

But understand that doesn’t mean that we’re done

All you have to do again is just say a simple delectable hello

These many questions

What the hell is your lousy suggestion?

Now that the minutes have gone by

Quicker than a blink of an eye

Take off that black tie of deception

I’m through making these exceptions

We never say that these could be our last words

Because you think this is going to go on forever

But listen as I plunge through to devour

Your heart bursting with whiskey soaked watercolors

These many questions

What the hell is your lousy suggestion?

Now that the minutes have gone by

Quicker than a blink of an eye

Take off that black tie of deception

I’m through making these exceptions

Can’t you see now that you’re stained and broken?

Can’t you see that you’ve been damned to hell?

So give, give up already

And rest those tired lies on the masked words of my farewell

It’s time to take off that black tie of deception

I’m through making these exceptions ((I’m through making these exceptions))

The Nine of Hearts

The words you spoke

The lies you told

The touch you hold

You’re nothing but a simple contradiction waiting to be

My newest afflicted addiction

You’re nothing but a simple beauty waiting to be

My newest fiduciary duty

The words you spoke

The lies you told

The touch you hold

You’re nothing to me now

You’re nothing to me now

How can you think that those things

Those simplistic feelings are all that I’m bringing

To the falling house of cards

That you so juvenilely constructed for our love

Built from breaking hearts

Poor kings and queens

Jokers and jacks all to be seen

The words you spoke

The lies you told

The touch you hold

Know that things will never be the same

As I take a final blow

And watch the last nine of hearts

Fall into a pit of endless

Desperation and destruction

The dust collecting on my hands and feet

I climb down the ladder that swings all too freely

You’re voice echoing with a malicious laughter

My beat quickens

And my steps chase after

I search for the end in sight

But to my darkest delight

You sit in the queen’s lap

Twirling her hair around your fingers

Singing sweet sorrows to her lips

The cards all slowly refolding

Before my tears of acid aching loving

Into a perfect fifty-three

Only one piece missing

And that piece

Is me.