the artist is the pheonix who burns to emerge

i'm drunk.

seems like aperfect time to post.

my exboyfriend made this blog for me. i'ma lso using his journal to write in nowadays. and i can't colalge over it, but i hate being reminded of what once was. what once was perfect, and how haunts my sleep. i'm sending poetry to boys at midnight and feeling numb. i'm being cryptic and writing songs. i'm being a bad, bad girl.

i'm wanting things that i should never, ever want. i'm wanting to be bad person.

better to reign in heaven than serve in hell.

i'm doubting things i have never doubted. i'm regretting things and i have no regrets. my hands feel warm and my head is fuzzy and full of cobwebs and soft, pliable rage. i feel wasted. in the drunk sense, but also int he sense that i've been all. used. up.

for some reason i just had a flashback to my middle school. i wonder where that came from.

my hands are so warm. maybe it's this keyboard. maybe it's this night.

it's getting cold outside. today it smelled like christmas. my life lately seems a string of dissapointments and misconceptions, wants and needs that never get met, friends that never get where i want to go, talks i never get to have, grades i can never make, leaderships i never take.

i'm starting to give up.

i thought i was starting to get jaded, but this is what's really starting. i'm starting not to feel. i'm training myself to feel nothing. i'm slowly widdling down my emotional state to three basic emotions: love, hate, and loss. do you really need anything else?

emotion has defined my life for so long, i'm hoping i can live without it. the truth is, it has bred nothing but spoiled relationships, rape cases, and suicide attempts. to be honsest, emotion has never done a damn good thing for me.

i am so drunk. my hands are so warm. today smelled like chriistmas.

i think i should change my name.

<3 ashes

no pheonix intended