antarctica starts here. (this year, i want you alone).

i peeled the shirt from your back, had a look at your scars.
they healed over so well that you forget where they are, but they radiate like stars.

all i want is some peace of mind. honestly, i don't think i've had that entirely in quite a long time. it was about this time last year when things started going downhill. those things stayed at the bottom, so low for so long. i had fleeting feelings of being peaceful. so fleeting they don't mean anything to me anymore. the boys from the summer mean nothing to me anymore. the intoxicated nights alone in my room still stand out, but essentially mean nothing to me now. i haven't been that depressed in a long time. i'm sick of being so pathetic and not knowing how i feel. ever. when i was seventeen i was so fucked up but was so sure of everything. atleast i knew i was fucked. atleast i had that loving contentment i saw every weekend. and you know what? things were so much easier. things were better when he didn't live with me. things were easy and shiny and new most of the time, having to wait all week til i saw him.

i fear you'll turn your back
on just the kind of love you really need.

i make the same mistakes over and over. and over, over, over. he was no different. i should have known better. none of them are ever different. it's my own fault.

but we have to make a choice now: can we glow without it?
there's a space i tried to fill, but i'm seeing now i never will.
you fly around while i stand still, until i slowly just get smaller and smaller.

laurel comes home on monday. it's definitely the one thing i am looking forward to. she sent me a text that said something like, "it will be good to not have to catch up, to just be with you." and that felt really good. atleast i have that. i have really good friends. kim and i go to the gym every day, she's the motivation i need(ed). needless to say the feeling of being a huge fucking whale has not gone away.

there's a few things on my mind right now. twilight is the obvious and silliest cause it's just a story. that perfect person does not exist. he's so perfect because a woman wrote the fucking book. also i wish my room was clean and brighter so i could actually see when i read, or type for that matter. another thing is how i cannot get enough of shearwater right now. i wish i was somewhere warm. i want to save money for california, but i don't know how one goes about saving money. esp when i should be saving money to move out.

i hate feeling this way. so confused and not focused and dissapointed and just so much.
i don't want to be just a piece of meat, just a symbol for some late night craving. but...

i don't know anything about myself anymore.