;;this makes me act like i'll never be quite normal;;

exiledsavior @ 2008-01-30T15:20:00

2008-01-30T20:21:36Z

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS.

BOB BRYAR WAS A HUFFIEPUFFIE!

Dark Arts: *IS PWNED.*

but you are my storyteller

2007-12-12T19:02:10Z

"For the last time with feeling
we'll try not to smile
As we cover our heads and drink heavily into the nights
That still shock and surprise."

they are all gentle hearts but
we all clutch silver hammers.
smile on the golden blade that banishes.
the sky is just a prop that can be broken down folded and put away.
when we take the final bow i hope my fingers are laced with yours.
sometimes the lights remind me of pixie dust and a forgotten story of neverland and boyhood loves
but sometimes its so artificial i just hide my head in my hands.
i have a different me for each person i meet and
one day i'm sure they wont be able to keep their stories straight.
there is no other now then this one.
loss of blood vs loss of heart.
we all get dizzy now and then you just need someone to steer you straight.
she opens doors while he closes his eyes and wishes himself back home.
"mind the gap".
next time you pick up a pen think of me because i will be thinking of you.
fell out of a window wishing on a star and through scarlet eyes i saw the world fall apart around me.
when i am gone there will be nothing left i will make sure of that.
fame<infamy? i will make headlines.
i will make their heads shake and tongues wag.
and all the while i will laugh til my chest aches and keep tugging on strings.

i am a legend
but you are my storyteller.
we all get passed around like a cigarette or a last drink.
i am a hand-me-down of every greatness that has ever existed.
that one artifact that is barely reminsicent of what it once what.
just a ripped insult to what was once as big as the world.

this feels like a warm embrace on a snowy night
more like home than i remembered.

"They carved a message deep within our broken hearts that failed to mend:
Make out kids never had a chance to be best friends."

"And as I gently sip this drink,
I think about my lack of future,
And all the places I could learn to fall in love.

I know I shouldn't waste my time,
Wishing I'd been better designed,
yet for some reason still think

I am wrecked. I am overblown."

fixyoureyes/andgetout

2007-11-20T21:22:03Z

the universe beneath her lids

see you around.

sweet weather and peacock feathers

2007-11-19T20:49:03Z

"its not what it seems, in the land of dreams "

this is my last post here, as exiled. i've outgrown that name and the beliefs attatched to it. the girl who came up with it was selfish and in love with disasters. in some ways, i am the same. but now, at least, i want to think about the world differently. shed the cynicism. i'll eventually reveal the location of my new journal to you each individually, maybe.

"been dreaming of him and you and us and castles in the sky"

i've got to get to writing again. something like a lullaby. i realize now that those rare moments i talk about? i'm just not looking properly. since i'm back in the "country"/escaped the city, the sky at night is so much clearer. ever since i became more concious of the world, i've been living in the city, either Melbourne in Australia or Abu Dhabi in the UAE, and god. its like someone had thrown gold and silver dust onto black velvet. "that stars are shining like rebel diamons cut out of the sun". I could see the horizon all around me, occasionally cracked and cut by the skeletons of trees, and honestly i felt like i was caught in a snowglobe, as overused a metaphor as it is. i just feel like i'm being held back.

i think about you, now and again. about how sweet it would be to look into those foreverblack eyes and talk about days come and gone by. about the pretend. i guess if i had to sum up how i feel about you, i'd say i'm
out of love with you.

"shh. teddy bears don't talk."

sweet dreams, jellybean.

2007-11-16T19:35:23Z

HOLY JESUS CHRIST AND OUR SAVIOR ABOVE.
DRAMA PEOPLE.
ARE THE BEST PEOPLE.
IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD. AND IM NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING GODDAMMIT.
I just *squee*. I love them all so much.
Except for maybe Jackie. And Gavin. The little squealer. Anyways I know you don't know who I'm talking about except...one of you who doesn't even read this. Bitch. :D
ITS OPENING NIGHT TONIGHT~!
And while 13-hour school days don't exactly make me shiver with excitement, it's going to be great. Drama people are like, over the top and outrageous, so I actually...fit in for once. I'm not just the weird one who occasionally says something funny and makes everyone else comfortable cuz they know they aren't the most retarded person in the vicinity.
Okay.
I gotta run, I'm not supposed to be writing this. But everything is going quite splendidly in my life, it's pretty odd.
Not sure if I like it yet, I need me some anguish to make it through the day unscathed.

"To be okay with being okay"

Yah, I'm gonna miss all you guys in the interim between un-groundation, phones, and getting internet.
:(

*flail*
Whatever.
I am content with my king&queens, my deserts, and my daydreams.

"it felt like i was smothered by the sky"

2007-11-13T20:09:57Z

I'm going to be MIA for awhile. Miss me like I'm dead.

So unimpressed but so in awe
Such a saint but such a whore
So self aware so full of shit
So indecisive so adamant
Im contemplating thinking about thinking
Its so frustrating just get another drink in
Watch me come undone

Theyre selling razor blades and mirrors in the street
Pray that when Im coming down youll be asleep
If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet
Because Im scum
And Im your son
I come undone
I come undone

So rock and roll so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all
Im not scared of dying I just dont want to
If I stopped lying Id just disappoint you
I come undone

Theyre selling razor blades and mirrors in the street
I pray that when Im coming down youll be asleep
If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet
Because Im scum
And Im your son
Ive come undone

So write another ballad
Mix it on a wednesday
Sell it on a thursday
Buy a yacht by saturday
Its a love song
A love song
Do another interview
Sing a bunch of lies
Tell about celebrities that I despise
And sing love songs
We sing love songs
So sincere
So sincere

I don't want to die/
but I ain't keen on living either

If I stopped lying I'd just dissappoint you. Truth.

when vintage seemed rockstar

2007-11-09T20:44:15Z

Peter Wentz, how you slay me.

So I am...*throws hands up* Yes. There are no words for this. Its just a very turbulent feeling, mixed with unrest and the uneasy feeling I'm forgetting something very important but that once I remember will wish I hadn't.

People. I am done with all this bitching and moaning about other people. Only I can do that, and only when it involves aforementioned Peter Wentz and how he continuously manages to crush me and return my mental frame to that of a four-year-old. I have very good reasons for the bitching-and-moaning, see?

People. Perspective.
Goddamn perspective, I say!

Please, just...ignore me. I have no say over what I think or feel. I don't even know what I'm doing. Out-of-body experiences and such.

"with all your cheap words about hearts and accidents"

everybody loves an underdog and all.

-xo

the truth is...

2007-11-08T21:23:17Z

forgive me for forgetting.

the one you love and the one who loves you are never the same person.

miles might as well be worlds.

its nice to dream.
at least until you wake up.

"but i am regular"...

2007-11-07T19:41:49Z

...minus all of that.
Yes. That.

I am not even joking with you all right now. I want to wrench each germ out of my body and personally beat the living shit out of them. I've gone through maybe twelve bottles of water because my throat is dead. It hurts to exist. And I don't even mean that in the incredibly emoish way that I usually would. :P

I carry his words in my pocket, you know. They're so heavy. Like each is worth its weight in gold. Or like I'm carrying a sun or a galaxy or maybe the entire universe, and that wouldn't be too off would it. Except then I start thinking I like the universe but he messes with my words and connections like that give me goosebumps. I press my fingers to them ones that hit the hardest, like I want them embedded into my skin- an emotional imprint. I want tattooes of black lettering across my every inch. I don't want to forget them now that I know them.

But they're just old words, old light, beamed out ages ago.

People have been telling me I haven't been making much sense lately which is odd because I feel like I'm being the most coherent I've been in a while. Yah so I haven't run out on you yet doesn't mean the cabin fevers not there. And it doesn't mean I'm not still me.

There are certain moments when I think, yes, the world is wonderful and beautiful and I want to lie on the ground and just take it all in. But there are just so many moments when all I see is filth. Dirty minds&souls&cities. I guess I could work on scrubbing it all away but something tells me one day I'll love what I see. So.

Yes. You are regular. Ordinary, even.

I still get to wondering, laugh andor frown lines?

i'm not talking planets and galaxies.

The Wizard of Oz still makes me sad. I miss her. And her shiny red shoes.
There's no place like home. So why are you gone?

"i'm pretty much half gay"

2007-11-06T21:06:36Z

click here please&thanks.

or for you lazy bastards:

When Will Your Favorite Pop Star Croak?
Fall Out Boy's hyperactive bassist gets a professional opinion from gerontologist Dr. David J. Demko.

Blender, November 2007

PETE WENTZ

Birthdate: June 5, 1979
Current age: 28
Death calculator starts at age: 79

CATEGORY	YEARS ADDED / SUBTRACTED
White male (-2) raised in Illinois (-1)	-3
Delinquent child: Stole a guitar at 14; frequent truant; parents sent him to “eight-week tough-love boot camp”	-1
Poor exercise: Days spent riding in bus, nights playing board games	-2
Stress: Work overload has led to anxiety meds and a weeklong hospital stay	-1
Public humbling: Penis pix on Internet	-1
Media fishbowl: Paparazzi hound Wentz and girlfriend Ashlee Simpson	-2
Insomnia: Chronic lack of sleep inspired his book The Boy With the Thorn in His Side	-1
Neurobic: Songwriter, author, entrepreneur, bar owner, clothing model	+2
Hepatitis risk: Tattoos all over body	-2
Sexual-identity issues: Irons hair; wears guyliner (“I’m pretty much half-gay”)	-2
Supportive parents: Bumper sticker on family car said MY KID COULD BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR HONOR STUDENT	+1
Questionable hygiene: “Never eat good food ever” (-3), suffers from “health issue” (-2), van tours are “dirty” (-2)	-7
Workaholic: “290 shows per year”	-4
Neurosis: “I have a negative outlook on everything; I tend to be overly bitter”	-2

Estimated life expectancy	54
Projected year of death	2033

Gerontologist Dr. David J. Demko: “Pete needs daily aerobic exercise for his overall physical and mental health. Also, he needs to make taking showers an everyday priority.”

fuck your stupid flist. this is important.
meaning, not.

the way the sky tastes.

2007-11-06T21:02:11Z

I am so ill. Not even in that wonderful way that I like to pretend to be (note to self: I am not, and never will be, Peter Wentz) but mind-numbingly, miserably sick, and its really gross and the sleeping for half-hours at a time between long periods of pacing and writing absolutely nothing of value (unless you include mindless rambinglings about my views on standards of humanity, my god, horrendous stuff people) is driving me up the proverbial wall.

So. In between my flails of misery I am here to alert you:

My god, I am actually sort of loving what I'm writing for the Frankenstein story.

If I made it original characters, Patrick would obviously be "Victor". Coughcough.
And Pete, Pete, for some reason I'm just totally in love with the idea of him being purely and simply a thought, just borne of some restless childs mind, a need for articulation and protection from loneliness.

Ah! Such excitement! I refuse to abandon this idea, flat-out fucking refuse.

I miss all of you, pretty much.
Wanted to talk to you today. And yesterday.
Me getting over myself? It happens in slow, short bursts. But its happening. And while I know its totally possible that maybe I'll lose whatever spark you find so fascinating, its kind of...
nice. Just...
"growing up became growing old."
Not for me. I refuse to let it. I'm just...learning, is all.

And Im starting to figure out...how not to regret. If I felt it was a good idea at the time...well, let me face the consequences. I will stay faithful to my past self's decisions and beliefs. Like, defending the friend you know is wrong but still, its your friend. You gotta back em up, stick with em till the end.

Love.

i once saw a river so wide it only had one bank...

2007-11-02T19:27:46Z

chills and thrills.
beware of the weeping angels.
read&believe.
strange how only now i'm in the halloween spirit.
i'm so creepy in all actuality, you guys have no idea.
some guy threatened to shoot me today. and i got into his face and told him all the places he could do it.
asked him if he wanted to see my brains explode out of my skull.
or for me to drown in my own blood.
or maybe in the stomach, until my screams of agony as my insides fell apart drove him to shoot me in the face. "and as the fragments of my skull begin to fall like pixie dust upon your tongue." (that line is a guaranteed freak-out by the way.)
maybe shoot me in the palm of each hand until i went crazy and killed myself off.
haha.
the look on his face.
priceless.
see the problem here is i'm suffering this strange identity crisis.

whiiiich reminds me.
since i'm roughly...two fifths through frankenstein, ive come to the part where "the creature" (i desperately want to name the poor thing) finds Agatha and Felix and their father, and falls in love with their beauty but then sees himself in a puddle...
and oh, a complete story just appeared in my head, like Adam from dust.
and Pete! it would be pete.
"infuse a spark of life into his being".

i'm pretty sure you are right in wondering if i understood.
apparently i'm not getting much through my head, anymore.

-xo

exiledsavior @ 2007-11-01T14:46:00

2007-11-01T18:58:40Z

i like the way you sing so loud with your eyes shut tight and mouth wide open and the sounds the sounds so rawintensebeautiful my best moment our best moment the beginning the end the middle exactly what i need and exactly what i can't have and you make the blood rush to my head and make me dizzy and i feel alive like i'm supposed to but baby
they feed me s y m p a t h y
intravenously
and you know i choke on pity.

sometimes i dream about how you used to catch sunshine between your fingers, sifting and sliding.
sometimes i dream about how i used to brush my fingertips on your eyelids. back in the glory days.

paint the town dead.

i walk around at night bumping into ghosts and we talk about cliffs and old buildings and the way the fog walks on silent haunches like a cat. but then i'm reminded of how i can't even finish what i've started. and it fades away, gonegonegone, i'm talking into air, into dark, into nothing. except maybe into insanity.
i'm always half inside the worlds i make. i don't know what it's like to have both feet on solid ground.

emerald city downtown girl. streets paved with gold. "there's no place like home" but home is not a place but an idea.
mind.
heart.
courage.
they are all as short as my temper, my faith, my height.

"and when the planets align even the mercury specks in our eyes will match"

i have a heart not of gold or silver but
lead
instead and
that way when you look at me i don't have the floating feeling i
am just
f
a
  l
   l
    i
     n
      g
like i used to.

silly kids, you're just dying to be tragic.</div>

things change so quickly.
everything is so fucking fleeting, i hate it.
well i mean i want the good times to last (sorta?) and the terrible ones to past but if i had to chose i...
i don't know.
its just really confusing.

"moon so heavy its about to fall out of the sky like fruit from a tree.
in your eyes its reflected and you can see it crashing down, flooding the streets with silver shine and fragmentsshardsslivers of moonbeams.
breath a mist in the air in front of you.
legs pumping.
heart pumping.
falling to the ground, the evening rain soaking you through.
your makeup smudging but not really caring.
the world spinning underneath you but it feels so still. like that moment is forever.
and then you get up and walk home and you begin to understand how no moment is really forever."

yah except i suppose where it counts.

"sweetest tequila i've ever tasted"

2007-10-31T23:50:37Z

"reap what you have sown"
but this drought has all i've worked on dying.
only here's the thing.
what you say doesn't matter.
i'm going to do what i want to.
you don't have the spine to do anything about it anyways.

stick that in your juice box and suck it.

-xo

they all want to skip to the epilogue in the stories of our lives

2007-10-30T19:40:01Z

my words are my faith.

i ask you.
if its supposed to be fiction why does it feel so much like the truth? it has come to the point where my perception of them is skewed- they are more me than they are them.
still waiting to wake up. though im not sure from a nightmare of a dream.
publish your inner monologue and make it a best seller.
smother yourself in the glitz. the glamour. until youre too bright to look at, anymore.
words can be bent and broken and rebuilt to feel like hom. they are always hiding beneath my skin. dancing through the currents in my veins. so closely intertwined with my heart and nerves they are hardly seperate.
sometimes i feel full to bursting and maybe it would be okay to run on empty except you dont get anywhere that way.
"have you ever felt drained of everthing that makes you, you?" yah but its not like i ever bother to look hard. a scavenger hunt for the parts to stitch us back up. with injected lips and skin tucked.
x marks the spot for every mistake made by God to be fixed.
like He should even need a spell check.
a vampire and a looking glass.
its unfair though that i should feel so comfortable in his words, like an old skin but in reverse.
more like what i might grow into.
thoughts shouldn't need to be judged before the world to hold weight in your heart but i cant seem to get this through my head and its not even purging or catharsis or whatever you might want to call it.
its a need for validation.
no i'd have to say its more a need for attention.
"silly boy you're just dying to be tragic"
hearts learn to ache in fierce ways. its so hard to keep going once you've been kicked when you're down. sometimes i feel sick thinking about all the ways ive messed up. but sometimes its like i took a wrong exit on the way to my 3x4 desk job in a smoke-soaked city and ended up in Paradise and i'm sure i'd be first to say i was going to be late for work.
"sorry for calling in late but in this moment i just need to convince myself that i am not so alone"
teach me how to control this steel monster in my ivory cage. id like to ask it a question or two but it always seems like i get the answering machine.

i mean if either way you're expecting bad news why should it really matter if you get there and its empty.
except maybe its fear cuz if i felt how i think you would i probably would keep my mouth shut too.

-xo
take in the laughter, "carpe diem"

as heavy as the sky can hold

2007-10-29T21:34:40Z

there are two bodies lying in the grass behind the church, frozen morning earth trying to steal away body heat. they huddle closer together, limbs intertwined like slender tree branches.

they are trying to bloom in the moonlight.

one of them, the girl, she sighs and her breath manifests itself hovering in the air above them as a mist, ghostly in the fading silver light of the moon. she lays her head on the other's chest, owner of said chest reaching into the sky. he holds his palm open, cupping the glowing orb resting against the midnight sky, and laughs. they press themselves closer to one another, desperate for warmth.

a few hours pass. the constellations seem to swirl and change. the boy and girl don't. they lay perfectly still while the galaxy revolves around them. they are the frame of reference for infinity.

by now the girl has fallen asleep, each exhale expelling atoms of breath into the air to hang like a specter. they boy angles his head to allow a better gaze at her dream-nursed face, cheeks flushed and lips parted in a serene smile. he runs a callused thumb along the gentle slope of her jaw. she inhales slightly; leans into his touch. kisses his hand. the boy lays his head against her, taking in her scent of lilacs and life. soon he drifts into sleep as well.

they do not awaken when the sun eventually climbs its way up over the horizon, its light spilling victoriously over the world, stretching out the shadow of the church steeple until it could be likened to the shadow of a giant.t he couple lay there in that darkness, bones cold and lips pressed to skin. toppled statues among grave markers.

the frame of reference for infinity.

the only one i think is ready.
i'm still not sure of it.
i don't want to bog it down with detail. it needs to be simple.
but i have this image in my head and i want. it. perfect.
oh well.
they say quitters never win...
shush up peter.
minions of my flist; check out this beauty
thats all for now.

love;
-xo

p.s- if you haven't checked out this song yet, its amazing.

you can cry all you want to i dont care how much you invest yourself in me

2007-10-26T19:44:24Z

can i just say ow.
ow.
ow.
there are certain types of headaches that are almost pleasant like for once maybe i'm filled with ideas instead of bullshit and perhaps, with some luck and light from above i can spout something worthwhile out on paper.
however.
there are also certain types of headaches that make me flinch at fall out boy, fall out boy, because they're too...loud? that's wrong, utterly wrong. and just forget about my chem, my goodness, its just that they are the type of band you BLAST because 1) the louder, the better obv 2) you want to let the people in the general or not so general vicinity enjoy their greatness or 3) you want to annoy the fuck out of you mother. and ow, it hurts to exist right now, i just want it to rain all sweet and cool.
ow! this is worse that that whole bomb-skull-explosions-ehhh headache i had back in third grade with the hundred three fever or whatever it was. ah.
okay, done whining.

anyways, folie a deux seems fantastically possible and tangible and, and, legit now, and i'm incredibly excited, and i just want to write some...oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, yes yes yes! (that was a mind orgasm~!) i'm quitting ff, btw. but its just, i remembered a story i wrote last year! and it was pretty good if i do say so myself! and i dont know how to contact you jen but, here it it if its halfway decent, i want to do some work to it again, its been about a year since i even looked at it actually...eh its actually more of a drabble i guess...

You sit there, hands in lap, posture straight.
Face beautiful.

I sit here, with canvas and furrowed brow.
Trying to cature you.

Maybe I was never meant to. Never meant to capture that strange, somber sparkle in those grey eyes.
Or that little, laughing smirk on your full, rosy lips.
That natural blush adorning your features.

But I feel the need to. Even if we must sit here for eternity.
Photographs are dull, lifeless; they won't do.
I need to put you on paper,in charcoal, oil, acrylic, chalk. Whatever necessary.

You sit there, motionless, posing perfectly.
Emanating strength, intelligence.
A mortal goddess.
Wise and naive.
Strong and weak.
Plain, expressive.
The closest to perfection.
Raw.

I bring my hand to the canvas, slowly, deliberately.
Sketching of your contours of your cheek, your spiralling amber curls.
But my strokes are harsh, brittle.
Bitter.

And I stop.

Todays session should be over.
But you'll stay in position for me, anyway.
My Love.

First, an idea. I take my charcoal and bring it to your lips.
Your throat.
Stomach. Chest.

Satisfied, I walk back to my seat, before the easel.

And begin again.

This time, though, the charcoal moves fluidly.
Perfectly, to match your every feature.

I lose track of time, and the sun rises, and the sun starts to set.
My candle never wavers.
And you never move.
I can't even see your chest rise with each breath.

With a final flourish, I am done and my tool disintergrates between my stained red and black fingers.

I set the canvas aside. But not without letting you admire it, first.
It's perfect. It's you.

Sleep is coming for me.
A long sleep.
I grab a small object of the coffee table.
I kneel in front of you.

I taste the blood at your slit throat.
One last kiss.
Take the gun, and we sleep together.
Virgins untill the end. It's what you would have wanted.
Lovers. And you are immortalized in my greatest work.
Lovers.
We sleep, our blood pooled together.

Mixing. Becoming one.</div>
Hm. Reading it again, its not so great.
OH WELL.
:D
drabbles, i'm so excited for my drabble fest! ah! and i still have my prompt table!
my little snapshots, perhaps i can take them out and dust them off. all the polaroids of a single instant i've collected and stored in my head.
two friends lying on the grass,hands intertwined like slender branches, blooming in the moonlight, "darkest before dawn". butterfly kisses.
a callused thumb tracing the outline of a jaw.
oh! the thrill! the anticipation! words flowing like water or sand or stardust!

been reading frankenstein. despite the content of the book, the writing is just...
wow. such utter beauty in every line, even with the ugliness of despair and terror.
ooh! and the theme, and how your parents decide whether you live a life of wretchedness or happiness varying on how they act towards you! and applying that to the daemon! i could definetly work with that!
okay, haste makes waste but i dont care, i gotta run and, yknow.

write.

&hearts;

"i shunned my fellow creatures as if i had been guilty of a crime"

2007-10-23T21:13:06Z

i am a shapeshifter.
i am an arrowspinner.

he spits quotes like nicotine.
internet scene queens (the girls who order
drinks without mixers)
HIPSters, dry-docked at the bar.
and business_men with Armani suits, an entourage
and gunshot wounds (make or break legends)

he says,
"the only thing that changes here is peoples hair color"
he says,
"its saturday night here every night except saturday."
he says he loves it, there with them,
'the body of the world'.

pixelated love-at-first-sight.
digital romance.
dial-up dating.
what a
S H A M E.
all of this.

watch me roll up onto the
~STRIP.
Vegas lights. fortunes made and lost.
dice and doppelgangers.
me with my designer threads&friends&
d-d-d-/drugs.

"i thought he died."
cue laughter.
I'm sick of these people who find joy in each others pain,
although i've been told what we hate in others is what we hate in ourselves,
so you do the math, only dont, cuz i cant take it.
empathy comes in bursts, for me.
cuz i felt nothing when i saw those towers burning,
or those kids shooting,
or those people dying,
of the world ending.
"and after seeing what we saw
can we still reclaim our innocence"

"this is my life."
you might not know it,
but at that moment i wanted to kiss you.
a wave crashing on the shore. (i'll sing along, word for word either way)
but this is a different story for a different time.

viva la cobra countdown: one hour.
oh fucking yah.

xo

"did somebody order some exploding pants?"

2007-10-22T19:18:14Z

worthless vs priceless huh.
reminds me of mr. whittier, the villian, the antagonist of the story.
manvsman or manvshimself.
about how all the pain and suffering in the world polishes us.
worthless...
hm.

been trying to figures how to obsess over living.
losing my mind obsessing over you.
for me, death has never been just a
passing thought but more a concept tattooed to my eyelids.
it's all i see when i'm in the dark.
which is often. sometimes the light is so sudden i'm blinded.
but its not something i want to talk about. its so precious to me.
like a single drop of water amongst an ocean of sand.
i'm sure that somewhere there is a formula to arrange
or an equation to solve that would reveal all the worlds secrets but in that case there wouldn't be any point in trying anymore.
so i do my best not to think about it.
it feels like this has lasted an eternity but it has only been a moment, an instant in time, and even i realize that in another instant it could end.
but i try not to think about that, either.
right now i'm just sitting in this heat of five billion bodies and waiting for the end of the world.
i'm scared it will happen before i tell you how i really feel.
or before i hear or write the perfect song.
or the perfect story. the one that will make all your troubles disappear if only for one second.
"i can take your problems away with a nod and a wave."
its not right to say something like that. dont make a promise you cant keep unless i suppose you just do it for the thrill.
but right now i'm more scared of how you'd react. if youd turn around and walk away.
fall in love. or off the edge of the world.
so for now i'll just curl up in this little bubble of fear and try to sleep it all away.

often more than anything i want someone who will capture my interest.
with all their peaks and valleys. alway changing. letting me get lost inside who they are.
someone who will leave me reeling/realing, mind spinning.
all these people around me are just so...
static.
flat characters to my supposed antihero.

but if there has ever been a conflict here it has always been manvshimself.
living from one anti-climax to the next.
priceless vs worthless.
i know i'm being a bit over the top but somehow when i bend my words it feels like home and maybe for once i can know how it tastes to wake up with a smile on your face.
or next to someone you love.

"this is my rushmore"
this is my rushmore
* * *
i told someone how i missed my "Muse" but that word doesn't feel right.
there is no other word but 'catalyst'. maybe because its so similar to 'catharis'.
i keep thinking about this fear of words.
but i feel more at home with them than with anyone i can think of right now.
except maybe you.
and i'm sorry if thats a little heavy or anything but i'd rather be honest right now.

my latest [create]tion here&here.
i think i have an obsession with the death of pete wentz.
i keep dreaming about it, too. its worrying.

a bullet to the head and gloves of ruby red

2007-10-11T20:47:33Z

my stepfather is here a few days early.
the is fucking bullshit.
guess who's homeless for a while?

exiledsavior @ 2007-10-09T15:38:00

2007-10-09T19:40:10Z

"pinch yrself just to know you exist
theres a statute of limitations on the laws of attractions
dont forget
lower yr standars cos it aint gonna get any better than this
me and my "coffin sized friends"
were only fighting over the seat with the best view
to watch the end
when i die please make me a legend
so i dont have to come back and try again "

"ive screamed my insides out and
been photographed coming undone
im pretty sure i could live until forever
and not know anyone"

Fine.
Right now, I am acknowledging you, Pete Wentz.
Today is one of the days.
Like she said that one time.
You make me want to hold the sky up, Pete Wentz.
It feels good to pretend to know you.

exiledsavior @ 2007-10-09T15:21:00

2007-10-09T19:28:21Z

Hey, you.
I've got some new story ideas bouncing around.
And my heart has been bandaged by The Academy Is...,
true story.
That show is going to make my life.
Sure, there wont be Patrick singing Clothes Off!
Or Patrick singing Cupids Chokehold.
Or Pete kissing Patricks neck.
Or Patricks hats.
Or Patricks milky thighs in dem skinniiee jeens.
Or...Patrick.
AH!!! LEAVE ME ALONE DEPRESSION!
Hahaha, its amazing what you guys do to me, I was seriously just blaahhh when i left school and then i read your entries or whatever, and i'm smiling again.
-refuses to acknowledge Pete Wentz at ALL-

Anyways..
PetexPatrick- Vampire. A mesh of the Sixteen Candles/MCR worlds. WUTWUT.
A delightful appearance by William Beckett should be in order, methinks.
FBR&MCR- Halloween. I have no idea but this image of Pete as a pirate/robot/alien/vampire/ninja just wont leave my head. it just bounces there next to Frankie the Bunny Fairy.

I don't know what cool thing to send Lauren.
Scuse me, "Miss L" :D

JENJENJENJENJEN.
Dont leave me hanging here!!!

Okay.

You are welcome. HAAIII JARED LETO!!!!

So very very welcome.
:D

RAWR!
-leaves to research vampyric lore-

exiledsavior @ 2007-10-06T16:06:00

2007-10-06T20:09:45Z

"That boy there, he's raining. Like Spring when it's lonely."

exiledsavior @ 2007-10-06T15:42:00

2007-10-06T19:45:14Z

Um k so liek evry1 go hurr:
LOOK AT THIS DELICIOUS STOMACH!!!!
for beautiful Joetrick picspam that makes my heart give birth to puppies of delight and summer weather.
And chibi-Patricks. Many, many chibi-Patricks.

like pixie dust upon your tongue

2007-10-05T19:42:19Z

AMAZING FIC-REC LIST RIGHT HERE \

Got progress reports. *fails*
Haha, literally.
Okay.
D in Biology.
E in Geometry. BUT HES SUCH A BAD TEACHER I SWEAR.
B English.
B History. But its a B plus I think.

Yah.
-epic flail-

So, Jen hasn't talked to me yet and I am sad.
HOWEVER. I HAVE FAITH THAT TAI WILL COME THROUGH FOR ME.
To be honest, I don't think they're popular enough for the show to sell out.
GASP! BUT THEYRE ON TRL.
NO NO NO MUST BUY NOW KILEY WE MUUUUUST.
And listen to Sherwood and Armor for Sleep and The Rocket Summer so I'm not a dumbass only singing for the headliner COUGH GIRLS AT FOB SHOWS COUGH even though i guess theyd know a few songs by GCH and PWTs...
Eh.RAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRR.
Im going to write funny!fic if it kills me.
Peter shall be a pirate.
Frank shall be a bunny faerie.
OMG HALLOWEEN!
-steals idea forever-

Okay, long weekend, wooh.
I miss Sarena and somehow I'm fighting with Amanda again.
YAH NAME DROP WHATEVER.
Im sick of guessing as to whether someones talking about me or some random other person I dont know.

-xo

Oh yah I'm falling in love with MCR.
Like, how I used to be with Panic! its scary and wonderful.
Like love should be I suppose.
Sorry this entry is so sloppy and surface level but I'm in a rush and when I'm happy I don't....think. :D