Desolatedreamer's Blog

It's not you, it's me.

It's not me, it's us.

The applications of bookmark excuses and stereotypical lines, packed into a mental rehearsal of what shouldn't be said. You don't want to risk it but you don't want to stand still, and it takes a leap to get anywhere from here. Not a safety rope in sight, captain, so let's take the dive.

4:52, and I should be asleep. Instead I'm filling up space with magnetic ink and fighting insomnia for control over the twilight hours. I'm losing. Go figure.

Monday I press the play button on real life again. Back to school. Back to the grind. Time to move forward this semster, not back. No excuses, no mopings, no crying this time around. The carousel is spinning, my friends, and just because I didn't get to sit on the pink-painted pony of my choice doesn't mean it's going to stop.

Strike up a chorus, conductor man. The carnival is back in town, and I have a score to settle with the ringmaster.

You sit and you wonder, in retrospect, how all of this happened. How things progressed to this point so smoothly, when you can distinctly remember the awkward moments along the not-so-straight line from past to present. Maybe hindsight simply smoothes it all out. Maybe I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. Not talking, writing. Not even writing. Typing.

Magnetic ink without the somewhat calming hiss of a pencil on paper.

I had a point when I set down to write this, but as always that point was lost somewhere in the transition from lying in bed to sitting on my couch. Or maybe it's not as tangible as I had hoped, and evades my attempts at condensing it into written form.

My mind has been crowded as of late with thoughts of my future, as well as those of the present. I would like to think that the past should be there to, but I'm afraid some of the more important aspects of that have faded away, leaving cold memories and even colder apathy in their wake. I find myself not returning calls, not sending emails or writing letters. There are pictures I should have taken out of the trunk of my car by now, but they're still there, stuffed into shoeboxes and used manila envelopes.

What kind of word is manila, anyways?

I should be sleeping.

On the music front, I heavily reccomend the following songs:

30 Seconds To Mars - The Kill (See the video, definitely.)

Panic! at the Disco - Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have with her Clothes Off  (If you haven't heard it, you need to.)

AFI - Miss Murder (Again, it's a video thing.)

I'm out.