crashhhhx

I haven't written anything here in a while. After my computer crashed, I forgot about updating.

Hopefully I'll update about my summer antics.

I will change this to something I wrote earlier when I'm not so tired.

I've never been woken up in a more amazing way than that. Your hand rubbing circles on my back, and the you hugging me.

I've never enjoyed laying on the floor more than I do with you. Especially in the dark. Kisses and hugs and tickles.

I do not enjoy having a lightblub for an eye, though. >8( <3

I love you, Daniel Jones.

I always get this jittery feeling before I go to shows, no matter who is playing. I think I get even more jittery before the Vibe plays. They are my babies. Even though I haven't been there from the beginning, I have been there since before they started getting more recognition.

I've made stickers for them that are all over Suffolk, Newport News, and the bumpers of people's cars. I've introduced people from other states to my boys. My boys, because I don't think they have a bigger fan.

I'm almost taking on the roll of "manager." I update their MySpace, make sure they get places on time, sell tickets for them, and I'm even considering starting to book shows for them.

There has never been anyone, especially a band, who has held more of my heart than Daniel Jones, Justen Michael, and Qurien Ramone. And not just because I'm dating their bassist, either.

I'm going to their show today. I could see them a thousand times and never get rid of that excited feeling that I get from seeing three of my favorite people in the world doing something they love.

Being a teenager seems like the most horrible punishment sometimes. I wish I was older, and that I had years more experience so I could handle these situations better. Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with things that are "way beyond my maturity level."

He helps keep my head on straight. A big brother figure.

We had to watch a video today about religion in Sociology. I really think Buddhism is the only one that makes any sense. Mainly because there isn't a god.

I don't think I could ever participate in a religion, though. I'm too selfish. I put myself before everything else, and putting something else, especially a god, before myself doesn't make much sense to me.

Admiration is a funny thing. I don't really know where it turns from admiration into obsession. I don't really care, you're a lot more amazing than anyone I have ever met.

Your awesome outweighs everyone else's.

A crowd of faces and they're all the same. Walking through them, I don't see any differences. Few faces stand out to me as people who would be interesting. "Freaks," people like to call them. Interesting is a better word.

Day after day after day, these faces stand out to me even more. Slowly, I work up the nerve to talk to one boy. A World of Warcraft hoodie drew me to him.

I've never gone back. I fell in love with that boy the second he opened his mouth.

A sardonic nature is one that I enjoy. Musicians whose lyrics possess that tongue-in-cheek wit are what draw me in. I can't stand the same old thing overandoverandoverandoverandover.

My posts for the day are getting shorter and shorter and losing their reflective, gruesome fairytale nature, but eh. I'm not as inspired as I was before. :|

Stem cell research is good. I honestly think that the cures to many "incurable" diseases could be found in stem cell research. Or at least more could be found out about why those diseases develop and a prevention program could be developed.

Government funding, though, is not something I'm sure about. Whatever.



I just needed to write about something today. I figured this was a bit more uh, intelligent than fangirl-ing over Watchmen.

In Prob & Stat yesterday, Chelsey asked me to read an essay that she wrote for a scholarship. The topic of the essay was "What is 'home'?" and it made me think a lot about what I view as home. This is pretty much how this next thing came about. I don't really know why I feel the need to explain this, because I don't really explain the other things that I write. I think that's mainly because they just come out of my brain or I'd rather not discuss why I wrote them. Whatever.




Home isn't a house, or an apartment, or a condo, or a mansion, or a box. Home isn't a building with numbers on it. Or maybe it is. Maybe your perception of home is different from mine, but that's why I refuse to call a house home - because the house itself isn't what makes it home.

Home is where you feel like you belong. Until you find where your home is, you spend your life longing for that place. The South isn't my home, although Virginia can barely be called the South. The closest I feel to a specific, geographical place I could call home in Virginia is Newport News - Christopher Newport University, specifically.

Geographical location is only part of my home, though. Home is when I'm with him. I feel at home when I'm in his arms. I feel whole. I don't care where I am, as long as he's right next to me. Home is wherever we are together. I've never felt whole until the first time he wrapped my arms around my waist. I knew that there was no place I'd rather be. Ever. I was home.

I feel like a part of me is missing when you're not around. After she died, you filled the hole that was ever-growing in my heart.

You complete me. I need you to feel whole.

It was raining that day; I remember that distinctly. My hair was wet from the rain when I walked into your house. You told me I was beautiful, standing there in all my soaking-wet glory. I didn't believe you. I'd like to, but I didn't.

Daily, you remind me that I am beautiful. Slowly, you are convincing me. Bit by bit.

You are slowly convincing me that not only am I beautiful, that I am worth something.

I can't come up with anything creative to write today, so I'm just going to keep typing until something comes to mind or I feel like I've explained enough of my day that I can't bear to talk about anything anymore.

Panic attacks are horrible. Having them in school is even worse. I was on the verge of having a second one this afternoon. Two in one day would've been hell. I hate having such horrible anxiety issues. I don't really tell anyone about them, though, because I don't want to seem like I just want attention, because I really don't. I would rather not have this issue at all. My brain works in really weird ways. I think I have ADD. I have a horrible attention span. I cannot focus on one thing to save my life. Unless it's what's the cause of my anxiety, then I can't think about anything except that.


I don't want to talk about that anymore. Bedhead by Single File is my favorite song right now. It's one of those songs that you really want to go to a concert just so you can scream it back at the band, because you cannot explain how much you love that song.





Driving down a winding dark road, windows down because it's summer and stays warm all night, blasting the music that makes you feel alive is one of my favorite things.

Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional is one of my favorite songs to do that with.

I think this is enough for now. This doesn't make much sense because I'm in a weird mood and don't really know how to feel right now.

I remember specifically how your smile lit up the room. Where the lights weren't lighting up the stage, it was practically pitch black. Although there were at least 50 other people in the room, I could tell I was the only person you were looking at. Your eyes bore into me. The intensity made me want to break down.

When you flashed me that smile, though, everything else faded into the background. It was just me and you and your bass, and I couldn't see why we'd ever need anything else.

Emptyemptyempty.
I've felt everything so magnified lately that there are no emotions left for my words.

The heartbeat in my brain is flat-lining.






Shaking fingers and stolen kisses. Hearts pounding and breath racing. They blurred together at the edges.

InhaleExhaleRepeat.
InhaleExhaleRepeat.
InhaleExhaleRepeat.
InhaleExhaleRepeat.
ItwillbeokayItwillbeokay.
ItwillbeokayItwillbeokay.

InhaleExhaleRepeat.


My brain is only bass lines scrolling behind my eyes, painting pictures.
Anything good that I could've written today has gone out the window.

Sunshine and piers and kisses and laughter took it all away.

The fluorescent light gave the bathroom an eerie glow. Green tile lined the walls. She opened the medicine cabinet that the mirror concealed. The top was quickly off and and a few pills were dumped into her palm.

Her eyes moved up to her reflection. Days worth of eyeliner was smeared down her cheeks. She had bed head, even though she felt like sleep had escaped her for weeks.

Pills flew at the mirror. They ricocheted, one knocking over the bottle, and they all scattered across the floor.

A fist quickly followed what the pills had started. The glass shattered and blood began to pour, dripping down her arm onto the snow white sink. She screamed with frustration, and slid down the tiled wall to the floor.

Sleep came that night, without pills, for the first time in a long time.

You could feel the bass shake your ribcage. Smoke clouded the air. There was barely enough room to move. The air was sticky and hot. Every now and then a stumbling, drunk guy would throw an open water bottle across the crowded room, water spilling onto the countless heads in the crowd.

The after-show euphoria is a drug. One of the best highs you could ever experience. It amplifies everything. Gives you energy for hours. An amphetamine for even the edge kids.

An elbow to the back was tolerable when you look up to the stage and your idols were staring right back at you. The barricade being pushed into your ribcage was worth it too.

You make me want to get up in the morning.
You make me want to be a better person.
You make me think before I speak.
You make me take a different perspective on life.
You make me smile.
You make me want to learn more about absolutely everything.
You make me wish I could play bass.
You make me put forth a little more effort into everything I do.
You make me strive to be the best I can be.
You make me want to do things for you.
You make me hate you sometimes.
You make me love you more than I could ever hate you.
You make me cry, whether from sadness or happiness.
You make me laugh.

You make me fall more and more in love with you everyday.


Much different from the other days. I obviously got lazy today.
He needed to see all of that, though. Even though he already knows it. <3