It’s perfect, life.
Every day is so similar when we eat and sleep and rest. When we fight and yell and cry. When we yawn. When you wake up and remember your dream.
When you dream.
When you go to school with a hat on your head and cheese in your hand.
You get it!
I’m saying i'm high.
oh man
angels we have heard on high!!
disco dancing!
Kung Fu fighting.
race me far from rhubarb.
its rambles in the brambles
i feel good.
i know i can't form a complete and coherent sentence right now.
i don't mind.
i am thinking clearly.
i am thinking clearly.
i can't speak though.
i can't believe i saw that centaur.
it's things like that. like watching tv without watching tv.
imagine.
i go "i can see clearly now the rain is gone, i can see all obstacles in my way"
and i watch some people making egyptian pyramids.
and they finish and cheer.
and i wish i had a blanket.
and i wish i were always happy.
i wish i were listenig to 311 right now
with a 211 in my hand
and with more pills.
drugs.
my muse.
my enemy.
my friend.
my temptation.
my faliure.
my hatred.
my love.
my gold.
drugs.
i think there is an eyelash in my eye.
it sucks.
a lot.
but i'm not going to get all bent out of shape about it.
don't get your panties in a twist!
yesterday i was cracking up so hard! because don't get your panties in a twist!
and i don't know for sure but i think it'll get darker before it gets lighter!
follow the yellow brick road!
oh discordia!
fnord!
fnord is the day before tueday and the day after monday.
remember the bengay
i'm so pleased with this life.
i cannot wait.
i am winnie the pooh going "think think think"
and kj is right here beside me.
and i want to know everything about him
and i want to paint my nails.
and i want to go upstairs where it is warmer.
and where there are pills that will be great for me.
ew
i hope i'm not anemic, yuck.
angie is.
and she has excema
so we know what's up
and i love those kids
and i hate george bush
but... seriously. the only thing people need to say when bush screws something up is "duh".
it's gotten old.
i wish kj were here.
today i was singing
you are my sunshine, my only sunshine....
and it reminded me of roxxy
tok
ro
gir
love nacho
pocket pancake
and so i sang that ridiculous song, and hecka people joined in.
i am my very own soul.
did you know?
do you think the aztecs got it right?
i'm solo
i'm wandering
i'm wondering
i am the girl who saw a centaur
i saw him run, leap, fly
it is always thought
we spin and circle and spin and circle
a neverending waltz between the moon, the sun, the earth and all the things that matter.
associate with something, anything, anyone. except that weird kid with blue hair and cheek peircings. what a cruel cruel world
cruella deville
i'm asking you to attach wires to my head
i'm asking for a piece of gum
i am asking for a brand new life
i am asking to see the centaur one more time
i am asking you to call me white
i am asking you to call me lame
i am asking you to take two placebos.
i am asking for a wednesday with you.
i am asking kj to marry me
i am begging for a kiss
i am running fast away
i am forever
that is what my soul feels
it comes from your heart
it comes from your eyes.
it beats like a drum
and souls are warm and souls are cold
souls that raise our temparature when we have a cold.
souls are the parts that don't die.
souls are the source.
jovial
unsteady
raspberry truffle
pills
suha fredrick
i wish my heart would beat a little harder.
it seems to be beating weakly. (not weekly, ahha)
i hope i'm yours
i have a weak heart
a weak soul
weak ankles
a weak smile.
i suppose it is hard to embrace someone who is wrapped in barbed wire. green angel.
i am beneath you. you are beneath me. and we claw ath the labels and expectations. trying to change our fate, right mr. chollet?
i am only hidden beneath it all.
i am claws and fangs and kindness
i am voice
i am soul
i am every color hot and cold
i am dialated pupils
i am in a church
i am a leaky faucet
i am tears
i am broken china.
i am free
i am a lie
i am a low red blood cell count
i am black ink
i am soap
i am a mirror
i am a smile
did you know
history is history
every day is history
today is becoming history
changing and become a mere memory
i wish my eyes to be open. throw these glasses to the ground and stomp on them. just like vegeta.
kj is my number one.
i figure that out more and more every time he smiles. everything he says.
he can fucking make dolphin noises!
here i am wayback road
i miss 1819 windterpark way
i miss 408 259 1028
i miss hellos and goodbyes.
there is a centaur in our midst.
so my mom took half of my miller
because i forgot to hide it when i opened the door for her.
i was too busy hiding the pot.
and she took it!
and i acted like i didn't care.
but i cared.
and i've been on pills every day this week, so far.
taking 9 each time diminishes your supply.
but it's worth it when you hear the radio playing and you know it's in your mind.
when you're watching the tv and it wasn't even on.
when you see a centaur run across the street, lunge for a deer, than fly away as a phoenix. and you point, and your mom didn't see it.
making something out of nothing.
and RIGHT after i write about how great i feel.
my brother calls
crying
and victoria is in the hospital
because the cancer is back
and she lost a lot of blood
and she's unconscious til tomorrow
and she almost died
and the doctors had the nerve to say to remo: All we can do now is pray for her.
and he is so scared
and i miss him so much
and i wish they never left
and i wish they never left
and i wish i could help them
and i wish i knew what to do
and i wish i knew what to do besides finish this miller and smoke cigarettes
and pace
and drink
and pace
and smoke
and pace
and drink
and smoke
and pace.
i can only pray.
remo doesn't believe in god
and maybe i dont either
but i do believe that if you wish something hard enough it can't HURT.
right?
my heart feels like its in my throat
i feel like it is going to explode in my throat
and i'll have no choice but to vomit my own heart out.
i'm going to take a bath
a hot bath.
and i will drink miller
and i will smoke
and i will worry
then when i get out
i will pace.
and please god.
she's unfortunate and she did no one wrong.
i feel so fine right now. i feel so calm right now. i feel like laughing. i feel like smiling. i feel like listening. i feel like howling. i feel like running. i feel like singing. i feel like peter pan. i feel like pocahauntas.
i feel like cecilia rosanne berry, taking on the world cracking the fuck up.
cracking the fuck up. i AM a fuck up!
and that fucks me up.
i love it.
my eyes are shining with all the glory in the world.
i don't need a mirror to know that they're smiling
i am not smiling, but my soul is.
i'm shining.
i am shining.
and i'm not even drunk yet.
i'm buzzing.
i feel perfect.
i wish i could feel like this all the time.
but...
the pills are good too, the sleeping pills.
i was sitting at school tripping out
and i still managed to understand everything the teacher was saying, just...i didn't really have to respond to it.
i feel perfect.
i feel like i've always felt perfect.
Purrr-ana.
who cares?
i feel like i'm the queen of everything
i feel like i'm true. i feel like i'm real. i feel like i'm honest.
i feel like i'm alone.
i feel like i'm never alone.
i love it all.
i fucking love it all.
i feel so great.
i feel like eating silk chocolate cream pie.
i feel like making some snickerdoodles
and not burning them this time.
i miss kj.
saturday = roxxy day.
she...threw away my pills. she called me a drug addict. i scoffed inside AS IF!
they're just sleeping pills, man.
i just take them to get a little high.
it's not like i'm...
i just take them because of how they make me feel so perfect.
so fucked up.
which is perfect.
i'm sorry that perfect = fucked up.
for me.
i'm not sorry.
but i am sorry that i'm not sorry.
if that makes any sense.
but it's not about the pills right now anyway
that is unimportant.
right now it's pringles, salt and vinager.
right now it's alcohol, the 32 oz miller kind
right now it's perfect without calling myself fucked up.
i feel good.
i don't want to go to sleep tonight.
i dont' want to go to sleep until the war is over.
i don't want to go to sleep because i'd rather go for a walk
tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I.
man...
i love miller high life.
i love miller high life 32 oz status
i love burning couches
and mark killing a chicken with a machete
and pringles
and i love being me
and i love everything about everything that ever made me smile or cry. because it's the mere fact that i react, not what kind of reaction it is.
i feel like my heart is going to explode.
i feel like my heart is going to stop beating.
steady as the beating drum
that concert was such a disaster.
i'd feel bad for mr. johnson, but it's his fault anyway.
i had a good time
my lungs hurt.
my stomach hurts.
my back hurts.
my chest hurts.
my heart feels like it's going crazy.
i don't know.
i haven't slept in a long time.
but i can't give up now.
not now while i have
miller
i love beer.
i'm so fucking calm right now.
i'm so fucking happy right now.
i don't even need sleep.
i just need my pringles, my family, my memories, and south park
i never feel less fucked up.
and i gaurantee i'm lying.
because
i'm always FUCKING LYING.
like...that was a lie.
Drew knows what i'm talking about.
i'm a walking contradiction.
i love kj.
i love being me.
i love when i watch figure skating.
i love when me and carla associate christmas time with making fake reindeer hump.
i love making fake reindeer hump!
and the guy going: "you kids think you're funny!?"
and victoria going: "we ARE funny sir!"
and putting sand bags in peoples mailboxes.
and it turns out it was victorias mailbox!
and smoking pot with random chinese guys!
and it turns out they were mexican!
and fucking laughing in the middle of the night for no reason at all!
and talking so much shit, then it turns out you're perfectly fine.
and all you have to do is give it a new spin!
because,
the world is ALWAYS spinning.
and it's no wonder we vomit!
and there's a smile on my face.
and it's kind of ironic.
and i don't want to write a satire.
and i don't care about my grades.
and i don't care about my life.
and i don't care about my future.
and i don't care about my past.
and i don't care whether that's negative or postive.
because i feel so fucking great
and i feel like shit.
and it's like a chemical reaction!
and it makes me want some chemicals!!!
YES!
i'm so fuckin happy!
i don't know what to say
but i'll keep saying
because i have to look busy while i wait for my mom to take off that jacket!
and i tell her...i'm doing homework
and i'm not doing homework
i should be doing homework
i rarely do homework
i stick out my tongue at homework
*sticks out tongue*
it works out.
even though the homework is still due.
what?
^_^
^_^
^_^
my arms are really cold.
merry christmas.
fuck mr scrooge.
bah! humbug!!!
woohoo!
i don't know why i feel like shit.
i hate feeling like shit.
i'm focusing now on brighter things.
a boy.
a bed.
blue eyes.
i fucking love your eyes.
and i drink some water.
and i can't pretend it's miller.
but i try.
and i feel a little better.
as long as i keep breathing.
as long as i keep seeing.
and as long as i keep thinking.
boku genki.
that's not true, that last bit.
because i still do not feel fine.
i never feel fine.
just less fucked up.
or more fucked up.
or less loved.
or more loved.
more loved.
more fucked up.
which doesn't make any sense.
oh God i'm sorry.
i don't know what i'm sorry for.
i don't deserve anything.
i do.
i don't.
i...don't know how to explain myself.
i'd be so fucked if i were on trial.
i can't wait for tomorrow.
tomorrow i will be genuinely happy.
it always happens like that.
i'm so fucked up, then i'm so happy.
then i'm so fucked up.
right now i can only see fucked up.
i hate that.
god mom, take off your fucking jacket so i can rummage through the pockets.
and i bet she doesn't even have a cigarette.
there's wine
there's brandy
there's sleeping pills.
my sleeping pills.
i feel like calling carla.
i feel like calling remo.
i feel like taking drugs.
i feel like taking some hardcore fucking drugs.
i would love to take some hardcore fucking drugs.
i would so love to take some harcore fucking drugs.
alone.
i made myself out of all the pieces you gave me.
okassan.
otousan.
no.
i'm cold.
i'm tired of sitting here.
i miss feeling less fucked up.
it's back.
i don't know what to call it.
it's not a calm feeling.
i vomited.
it didn't help.
i want something.
anything.
i can't stand it.
i think my mom has cigarettes in her pocket.
so i'm sitting downstairs.
just waiting for her to take off her jacket.
we have brandy, scotch whiskey, a small amount of wine, benedryl and a bottle of sleeping pills.
i'm so sick of taking sleeping pills.
i take them almost every fucking night,
and i hate it.
i hate those fucking pills
i want the brandy.
we have 2 bottles of it.
one bottle is Jareds.
one bottle is my dads.
they're pretty much off limits.
i already walked around the house looking in ashtrays for smokable cigarette butts like 4 times.
that's me getting desperate.
that's me looking at every pill bottle label and going "could this fuck me up?"
and this is me going, i'm not a fiend i'm not a fiend i'm not a fiend.
i just want to get fucked up.
so bad that i'm eating top ramen just so i'll have something to vomit.
because vomit reminds me of coricidin
and i can pretend i'm fucked up for a reason.
and if i had a beer right now my whole life would be complete.
i would LOVE a fucking beer.
i would make out with it a little.
miller high life, 32 oz.
god.
listerine is 21.6% alcohol.
i'm not doing that again. it's hard on the stomach.
everything is hard on my stomach.
i still have a satire due.
it's late already.
i watched novacaine.
it was pretty rad.
my mom came home at the end of the movie.
by the time the movie was over i wanted something.
i wanted some novacaine.
i brought glen upstairs and we sat there for a while.
doing nothing.
i ate ramen.
i wish i had that fucking brandy.
i'm going to end up drinking some by the time the day is done.
the day is done.
it's night now.
days are fine.
i love days.
i can't stand nights. i always feel like shit at night.
i'm going out of my mind.
no sir, i dont like it.
i wish i had a bottle.
i'll end up taking those fucking sleeping pills no matter what.
i fucking hate sleeping pills.
they're so pointless.
and lonely.
and fucked up.
and wretched.
and everything bad ever.
i hate them.
i hate me...
i was fine earlier.
my stomach always hurts.
so....so i tell myself, if i had some robitussin it wouldn't hurt as much!
and i know in my heart that's bullshit.
but i say anyway, yes, cecilia, that's true. if i had some robitussin it wouldn't hurt as much.
if i had some robitussin i wouldn't hurt as much.
i'd feel fine.
but i Don't have robitussin.
and thinking about that makes me clench my fists, makes me want to rip the keyboard apart, makes me want to beat the SHIT out of something.
someone.
something.
whatever.
i don't have shit.
i don't have anything that could make me feel better right now.
i can't even listen to nofx.
nofx kind of makes me want to vomit.
everything makes me want to vomit.
which of course, makes me wish i had something to drink
so it would seem like my vomiting has a purpose.
my head itches.
i'm judging a fashion show.
i want to meet satan.
and i want him to take my soul.
and i want him to fuck me up.
i'm sick of fucking scratching my head.
i'm sick of wanting so bad.
i'm sick of being like... me.
my fucking stomach hurts.
it's not fair.
i hate narnia!
okay so check this out:
Now, about roaches crawling into ears. You may think this is some kind of deranged myth. Uh-uh. Happens all the time. In fact, a controversy has raged since 1980 over the best way to get the little bastards out. The conventional remedy: drown the critter with mineral oil. "One cannot use the commercially available roach sprays," one MD sagely notes, "because of technical difficulty and for possible medicolegal reasons"--i.e.
One proposed alternative is 2-percent lidocaine anesthetic. The value of this was seemingly demonstrated when a patient showed up at a hospital with cockroaches in both ears. (Unanswered question: what was this guy doing?) Recognizing a golden opportunity for a controlled clinical trial, the attending physicians put mineral oil in one ear. "The cockroach succumbed after a valiant but futile struggle, but its removal required much dexterity on the part of the house officer," they wrote. In the other ear the doctors put lidocaine. "The roach exited the canal at a convulsive rate of speed" and was promptly stomped by an intern.
But lidocaine has drawbacks too. Another doctor who tried it reported that (1) the roach died in situ and was hell to get out, and (2) the roach had punctured the eardrum, so the lidocaine penetrated the inner ear and the patient had the whirlies for the next five hours. Also, subsequent tests have shown that lidocaine works much more slowly than your top-quality mineral oil.
Promising alternative: suction. Of course, one must take care not to inadvertently seal the ear canal with the suction tip, thereby risking "tympanic membrane barotrauma" and, for all I know, possibly sucking out the patient's brains.
What else? How about fly larvae in the ear? Happens. Also earwigs, with those scary pincers. You know the story. Earwig gets into a guy's ear, chews through his brain, causes horrible agony. Finally it stops. The doctors say, good news: the earwig came out the other side! Bad news: it was female and laid eggs. You've also heard that this is BS, that earwigs don't really crawl into ears. Not so; two known cases. The part about eating out your brains may still be a myth, but who knows?
--CECIL ADAMS
does that make you want to cover your ears or what?
i must buy earmuffs!
i lost my ring in the tamales
or maybe in the garbage.
it is a sad day
stupid broken mirror...
i wish i were high right now.
i'm reading this book about a drug addict
called a million little pieces
and i totally love it
(even though it makes me really hungry)
because some of it is just...taken right out of my brain.
and i love it because almost all of it is fragment sentences.
and this guy is so messed up in life.
and i don't want to be that messed up
like...no way jose.
oh my GOD
i'm so fucking high
hahhahah
i'm cracking up about fuckin
i don't even remember
oh my fucking GOD
and
i have to give blood tomorrow
and i'm gonna be like you fuckin stoner vampires!
dude
i swear
i feel like i'm on mushrooms
i have like the laughing
and the crying thing and everything makes SENSE
oh my GOD!
woah
that's uh...fascinati
i'm proud to say
i'm ceci rose anne berry
i'm cecilia rosanne berry
i am.
both.
i'm not tired
i'm not hungry
i'm not cold
i'm not hot
i'm not bored
i'm not angry
i'm not sad
i'm not happy
i'm... not.
i want to read her book.
i hope she completes it.
i'm so smitten.
i'm so infatuated.
i'm so bewildered.
i'm so afraid.
i'm so confused.
i'm so alone.
i'm never alone.
i told myself i'd stop eating.
which is ridiculous.
not 10 minutes later i was stuffing my face with burritos.
i fucking love burritos.
it's always burritos here.
that's fine with me.
i don't really want to be hungry anyway.
i wish you'd kick my ass
god?
remo?
kj?
whoever.
i want white trash two heebs & a bean.
i want punk in drublic
i want so long and thanks for all the shoes
i want maximum rock n roll
i want liberal animation
i want ribbed
i want s&m airlines
i want the longest line
i mostly want white trash two heebs & a bean.
because i love nofx, i love nofx, and i love nofx.
if i could see them live i'd have it all
oh
and i want i heard they suck live.
good luck with that, cecilia.
with le carlitas help, i could probably get all 9 cds without paying a cent. see, i love that girl, she walked out of borders with a purse full of techno.
she walks out of longs with a fistful of pills
we walk out of hell hand in hand.
fuck
yes.
and fucked up on coricidin too.
because we're immortal right? like mark. he's immortal.
i'm immortal.
i'm mortal.
i'm bored.
waving
to you
goodbye
a random design of a flower
like a rose
no one really knows
(insert geetar playing)
or a decomposeur
she is rose.
no one really knows.
i hate my family.
i love nofx.
i hate my family
i love nofx
i think i'm going to smoke
and jump on my bed
yeah yeah yeah!
whatever.
i will never come up with a solution to the way i am.
maybe because the only problem is my attitude towards myself.
i'm one of those pissy whiner kids that blab on about how depressed they are but never do anything about it.
which is a heap of fucking...piss
but what am i supposed to do?
call some depression hotline and go oh, well i'm sad.
like they fucking care?
what the hell?
when i used to go to counseling, i never said anything to them, and everything i did say was a boldfaced lie.
i was trying to fit into this category of ocd.
now i'm just...all over the place.
right, chollet? roxxy?
nevermind i'm not getting into this.
it can not possibly make me feel any better to venture deeper and deeper into how i feel about life and people and everything and everything and everything.
i was down at the sheep pen
(how i miss the goats! they were such pleasant company when i was depressed!)
and i saw this bird flitting from tree to tree.
flitting, really. there was simply no other explanation for it.
and i was like...i wish i could do that.
and i understand why the aztecs would dress like animals.
then
i went and got the trash cans and brought them up to the house.
then i read some of this really stupid book that i stole from the library. i'm definatly not keeping it.
then i got online to check my grades
and i fucking forgot to do that...
my parents (my folks, my ma and pa, mommy and daddy, my dad and mom, my pop and mar, my mother and father, the twisted humans that gave birth to me)are watching midnight cowboy at an insane volume and it's annoying me. which is funny because i thought that movie was swell when i was watching it alone.
it was rated x back in the day.
i think i'm going to retire to my room
watch donnie darko
make use of my precious gift from elijah. (hagile)
and...
(i hear madonna going: if i could melt your heart we'd never be apart mmm-mmm-mm, give yourself to me. you hold the key)
i guess then i'll learn some japan-words
i'm so sick of feeling.
i'm so sick of being.
i'm so sick of...
periods and apostrophes and capitol letters and run on sentences and lies and truths and wants and hates and the word Fuck. i fucking hate that word
i fucking hate this world
my whole life has been a suicide letter for fucks sake.
for FUCKs sake.
i'll tell you what i'm escaping from
when i pop the pills in my mouth, i'm escaping from myself. from this part of me going why don't you just end it why don't you?
because right now if i had some drugs
i don't think i'd be talking about suicide
i'd be on a whole diferent level
so don't you say i'm addicted to drugs
i'm addicted to life and drugs are the only way i'm living.
keeping myself
without drugs where would i be?
(with drugs, where are you)
it doesn't matter, cecilia, you're nowhere. and you're going nowhere fast.
and you're nobody and you're nothing and you don't mean shit.
just like
nofx.
THAT is what's keeping me going.
whatever
boku genki!!!
(i am feeling fine)
now i think i know
what you tried to say to me,
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
they would not listen they're not listening still,
perhaps they never will.
for they could not love you
but still your love was true.
and when no hope was left in sight
on that starry starry night,
you took your life as lovers often do.
but i could have told you vincent
this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.
i hunger.
but i'm not going to eat.
i
hate this shit
i'll smoke some pot
then i'll do the daydream thing going awww kj is so cute. going awwww i miss kj. going awwww i am so attracted to this guy.
This is what we’re becoming: managers of longs
this is me going
permanent solution is better than no solution