this isnt a poem

so....say what ya want.....i'm not attemptin to be emo ..(:-P......hehe ...even em and i LOVE those tight pants..mmmmmm..) but yea...this is all what comes out at points of pure boredom........so dont make fun!!:-P

what boredom makes you think of as autumn turns into winter..

"You’re 18..."
Translation.....
It will happen...eventually...wait
"You’re 18!!??!!!"
Translation..
You have to be lying..NO WAY....HOW?!?!?
Same concept, different perceptions....
Silence
Thoughts

I sit on my bed, look out of the 8th floor window
a cool autumn breeze,Richmond catches my eye
students rushing to class, some strolling along,
couples
I don’t understand how many of the things I watch work

How does it feel to have your hand held so lovingly
To be in someone’s embrace , to feel safe
I mean.....how does it feel to be in love

Then my thoughts slightly switch.
A slight annoyance toward too many english class discussions over the years, on the same topic...love.
It seems to just frustrate me that it is assumed that by this age we’ve all known its effects and consequences
I don’t
I don’t know how it is to blush whenever you look him in the eyes ..well...not a boyfriend’s eyes
To know that "your in love" as they all describe....atleast not with someone feeling it back
To have a heart torn by a past love......well....not by someone knowing what they were doing

Switch, Stare into the soft sky
I wonder if maybe it was my fault
I let it just pass buy
let the experience of growing up be ignored
I was always "too young" to get upset
"too young"to worry about having a relationship
"too young" to like him
but what about now?
I’m suppose to already know all these things, correct?

I watched others make their mistakes, and I guess some would say it was an advantage I never experienced those "feelings"
But what sense does that make if the feelings are bound to occur, just now.....I am naive
I’m "too old" to have a first kiss, "too old" to have an elementary crush, just "too old" in general
How could one or two years make such a difference

I sit here, once again wondering, what if it was different
what if one mistake from past had been corrected?
What if I would’ve have ....

That’s stupid to think of. Right?
The consequences of what did happen could’v been from just any ...
I mean, did that one experience really make me this bitter?
Make me always screw up something that could be forming by suddenly degressing to that scared little girl..
Did that one experience make me scared to even let others see my true feelings?
So scared to know I missed out on it

What is "it" you ask?
First kiss, first date, homecoming, prom..name it
all experiences people grow treasuring were just never there
All the things ....

....was it all my fault?
Staring at the ground
never speaking, mumbling
trying to make myself an outcast, all subconsciously I guess
Was it?
Maybe it was my dreams, determination

Switch
Well it couldn’t have been determination now could it.
You’re just as determined, just in another field.
Maybe that was it, we were both such big dreamers...
No...that can be it either......
Ack, off topic......

Once again. This is silly
I’ll just stop writing
thinking
maybe
then....

evergrowing loneliness hidden by a sweet innocent smile.

The broken heart hides the life of sadness
the tears that cries her to sleep
the disputes with a mother who was adored by all
but if they just knew
Knew how even with happy memmories killed the broken heart
drove a stick even deeper into the wound
and her talk of past love adding infection to an already festering wound
A broken heart’s dream crawling farther and farther away
many times in leaps
She goes to school for another’s acceptance
but her dream fatal
each day her heart fades even more
being beaten, torn, broken
So scared that her failure would be shared and framed in other’s lives
the broken heart becomes more cold
a shield growing so big she tells herself to not feel
emotion is seen as a weakness, she dares not let others see the toture
she lives on her life with an unknowing future and wishes
just wishes...

Screaming pleas heard as if they were silent

No one opposes the advice giver
the person with all answers
the friend that tends to "always be there"
the pathetic
atleast the way it is through my eyes
always telling useless answers to experiences never had
what sense does it make?
Can a priest talk of sex?
Can the deaf talk of sound?
The blind of image?
All one useless ramble after another taken seriously.

silent move

That feeling still comes to me even after all these years have passed
the intense love and obsession I once had turns into a lonely hate
the feeling that once made me giddy as child, a girl with her first crush
now tends to become some melancholy sorrow that just reminds me of how pathetic this is

how can someone never notice that theres someone out there that would do anything
anything to just have that person in your life physically not just in the countless wasted dreams and wishes
but then I think of the other aspect, how can one person be so pathetic
be so pathetic that the sight of this obsession turns into complete misery and depression

I hate knowing the realization
knowing that all I have of us are memories
my mind knows the truth but my heart tends to be stubborn
as cliche as all the movies, stories, songs
I am in love

then again how could I call this love?
isn't the other part suppose to answer back the feeling
the obsession is in denial, I know but don't want to admit
no, its not love then I guess, but what then?
Growing up in your presence after knowing our friendship had ended was hard enough
but as adults?

Adults....That word is still far for me to comprehend
but then again, you've found your love, the one that will make you happy, be you all
Me, I'm still stuck thin trapped little girl mind set
dreaming of the hopeless romantic's false images
The silent motion picture called "Love"

The lustful mind of the innocent

"Lets get these teen hearts beating faster.."
The awkward longing to be in that dirty song
the lyrics of passion and mistake
Lust and regret, just sex
the curiosity to once just know how it feels
the sickness of innocence taking over the mind

the notion that these thoughts are wrong
the gut feeling that it will never happen
the sudden fear of the chance it would
Panic

The virgin awaits
the whore begs
niether are happy
Both desperate to find a median
a comppromise to where morality and social standards canboth be consdiered

the insecurity of both to reveal the true self
both with the sadness dwellgin within
pride, dignity, will all creating some type of denial
the mask created by those who watch suffacting both
the spectator and spectee

thre repenteance
the plea

you must just decided who asked for which?
the virgin?
the whore?