solid saturday

i’m about to go all les miserables on this shit, but i’m not even les or miserables. I’ve always wanted to write an entry whilst completely inebriated, after a solid fucking night of partying—and ehre it is!!!

You’d think, going into a party without knowing anyone or whatever, that’d it’d be dull as shit—lemme tell you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was like emerging from your cocoon post-metamorphosis, sucking up the colors from the strobe lights and inhaling the scents of the world like nothing else could fill your lungs with sweetness. Familiar faces pick youf rom the crowd and you wonder, “do i really leave an impression on people?” and it doesn’t mtter, nothing matters becuas eyou’re hacing a great fucking time.  Old friends from forever and a day ago, new friends with beer bottles in their han ds that drunken beep beep beeps of a touch screen smart phone will bridge you by…. technology is fucking great, isn’t it?

Mistakes are made, but the outcome is beautiful——— ik havem

t been tihs traahsed in a while, bit it’s fucking greaT!!!! CHEERS TO THE FUCKING WEEKEND, MOTHERFUCKERS1!!!!

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One

I knew I was in trouble
when my atoms bent against
the curve of your hands
filling in those spaces
desperately yearning to be
the perfect match
for your lonely soul
trapped inside this cage
of flesh
that mutes a blooming
universe splashed with the
signals of memories
traveling through airwaves
but never meeting lips
silenced as you push
on by
leaving a trail of
stars for me to find when
the sun burns out and I
am left to grasp at
the parts of me no longer
knowing what they are
without the curve of your
hands

Memories # 3

I haven’t thought about you in quite a while; but sometimes little things remind me of you and it’s rather face palm inducing.

The memories aren’t as clear as they used to be, but I remember the heat of the sun beating down upon both of our faces pretty clearly. It started with a text from when I was out with my classmates— I believe it was the last day of our junior year and we were celebrating. “I’d really like to talk to you.” or something like it, you messaged me, and I shook my fist at the sky as my heart attempted to detach itself from my stomach. I remember sitting by the church in the subdivision where you live, my fingers trying to find comfort in their mirror image while you sat about a foot away from me. We conversed about the usual things, and I don’t quite recall the details anymore; but I think that was you inevitably telling me that you didn’t feel the same way. I suppose the mind of a teenage girl is so capable of warping reality to its liking.

It’s currently 1.30AM on a Sunday, and I have this entrance test coming up and a million and a half things on my plate— but it was this manga (since I know you like that kind of stuff) that got me thinking about you. Sometimes I feel like falling for you all over again, especially when I remember hushed conversations that probably meant more to me than they did to you. Sometimes, I see your face and my heart leaps out of force of habit. I’ve always been fond of the way your name rolls off my tongue, but I’m content realizing that you are perfect, but not my perfect. Someone else’s perfect, the corner piece to their puzzle.

22 Signs You’re An Ex-Convent School Girl

yes.

Natalie-Kay-Es-El

1. You’re cool with doing the heavy lifting – as long as it’s manageable. What? Wait for the guys to come help out? Girl, we went through 10 years of school without a single guy in sight (unless you count that wimpy math teacher), and we did just fine.

snap gif

2. You have that one group of girlfriends that you know will be there for you. FOREVER.

bestfriends

3. “Friendship problems” don’t throw you anymore. We’ve been through 4 years in a school full of girls going through puberty all at the same time. It was hell. There would always be at least one person in any classroom PMSing at any one time – plus we pretty much hung out with the same group of girls so much that our cycles literally synched up. Yes, it’s not a myth; it’s true. Which basically means WAR every few weeks. I repeat. It was hell.

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every day

It starts early morning in the inner reaches of my body
Building up and flowing out through my tear ducts my mouth my wrists
Tearing soul from flesh I am nothing
And by nightfall the demons leave what’s left of me
To put itself back together