Archive for January 2012

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We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012







I hate waking up with dry lips and a stuffy nose in the middle of the night. I hate "that awkward moment" Facebook status. I hate stupid Tweets. I hate the sound of dogs licking. I hate getting syrup on my hands. I hate things coming fast at my face. I hate people forcing me to try their food more than twice. I hate the phrases "it's fine" and "kthanks". I hate my hands being dry. I hate people yelling. I hate the new Sherlock Holmes movies. I hate the last two? Pirates of the Caribbean. I hate when people define words as a part of their writing/poetry/about me. I hate when girls edit photos way too much and add quotes. I hate when boys making farting noises. I hate the way my one teacher says the word "always". I hate the sound of my mother's toothbrush. I hate forgetting to do my laundry. I hate how long it takes BYU to send their acceptance letter. I hate the creepers who always hang out at MATC between classes. I hate when people leave their trash in my car. I hate posers. I hate all the ghettoness of my high school. I hate when people try to control me. I hate annoying blog posts. I hate the song Juicy by Gnarles Barkley. I hate the fact that it's almost February 1st and it still hasn't snowed and stuck.

I don't know why, but I feel that needed to happen.

I like my left hand a lot better than my right.

Monday, January 30, 2012






















I guess it's been a while, but I don't really feel the need to apologize... so I'm not going to.

In other news, I have a bazillionthousand things I should be doing right now(online p.e., online English, seminary packets, scholarship apps, cleaning,). But, I don't really feel like doing any of that. 

As you can see, there's still no snow and I'm about to KNOCK MY BLOCK OFF. Bahahah Killer Klowns reference.
Jalapeno Cheetos and Diet Pepsi are becoming my lunch far too often.
I got asked to Prom, but finding a dress I like is proving to be hellllllla impossible. Anyone have one I can borrow? :)
Kiss It Better is perhaps one of the most gorgeous songs my elf ears have ever heard.
Me and Trixie are still BFF.
The lights in my house are neat.
My hand is neat. 
I made neat fettechini from a box.


Well, now that the awkward part is over, we can get back to chatting every day.
I won't leave you again, I promise.








Actually, can I just take this moment to publicly point out how much I hate my English teacher?? I'm quitting his class, not because I'm a quitter, but because I'm sick of having to hold my puke in for 84 minutes every other day.

Well, I guess that's all I have to say for now.
We will speak again soon. Very soon... If you know what I mean....







Actually, I don't even know what I mean. So, I'm just going to stop talking. Even though I'm not talking, I'm typing. So, in that case I am just going to stop typing.
Ok.
Bye.

He walked right out the front door.

Monday, January 16, 2012







Sometimes confrontation is too much. And I"m not referring to the kind you have with your cheating (now) ex-boyfriend or from-hell roommate. I'm talking about the kind we have with ourselves. It's tough and it sucks and it scares us to death. It nags at us everyday and dares us to evaluate our lives. It tries to make us change, but of course, we don't like change. So, we avoid it. We shut it out. We pretend like we're doing awesome as we are.

And you know what? Maybe, we are doing awesome as we are. Maybe everything is exactly how it should be. But let me tell you something. When your 12 steps are taller than your toes, maybe you should stop and close your eyes. Just for a second. And think about that time when that person you love believed you when you said  you'd try.


But I guess even moving eyelids is too hard for some people.

I scuffed my shoe and fell for you.

Sunday, January 8, 2012



This is way past over-due, but lately I just haven't been feeling it.

See, there's this thing I have with humanity. Some would call it hatred. Some would call it confusion. I simply call it Johnathon (literally for no reason).

Generic.

I just don't understand what happens to people. Why am I no longer friends with the boy I stayed out all night with on the church roof? I swear to you we just stopped talking one day, and it's like, that's all it took.

I don't know why I don't speak to that girl I once labelled "best friend". I don't know why I can't seem to get over the boy from the ninth grade with the shaggy hair and hazel eyes. I don't know why I ignore people who I was friends with in 8th grade English. I just don't understand what it is about us humans that makes us fade. 

And the thing is, we all fade.

All of us. All the time. We're just watercolor smeared onto a canvas. And as beautiful as that can be sometimes; I'm sick of it. I want color. I want emotion. I want people knocking on my door asking me to hang out. I want sleepovers and long walks going no where and drinking diet coke and pretending to be all philosophical. I want to stalk the coffee shop boys and I want them to notice. I want to tell that girl I once labelled "best friend" that I miss her and wish she didn't have a boyfriend. I want to tell the boy from ninth grade that I want to marry him sort of. I want to sit on a church roof and theorize about everything.

But, all my acrylics are out. And the only colors left are water.

It's cool to fake romances.

Monday, January 2, 2012










In the end, you're right. No matter how much you want to be wrong or how much other people want you to be wrong. You're right. You've always been right. And maybe that's because you got a 3 on the AP Psychology test or maybe it's because you've been conditioned to expect things to be that way since you were a baby. But in the end, none of it really matters anyways, because creepsters will still be creepsters no matter how much you justify it in your head. And flaksters will still be flaksters no matter how much promise they stuff into their plans. And words will still be words no matter how much heart a person tries to give them.

But, caring is creepy anyways.

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