I wish the girl sitting next
to me at work would
stop playing with her hair.
It's triggering me so badly.
Unless you have
Trichotillomania,
then you have no idea what it's
like to live with it.  
I'm not feeling sorry for
myself, I'm just being honest.
I'm already constantly
thinking about pulling,
and my bald spot,
so when I see someone else
bring their hands up to
their head,
it's like a reflex.
I do it too.
The most frustrating thing,
is that I can't even say anything.
They wouldn't know what it
is anyway.
They'd say,
Oh, it's just a nervous tick.
Just stop doing that.
Those words have become the
most annoying words in
the English dictionary.

Because I'm NOT nervous!!

I don't think,
that ever before this time
in our lives,
that it was so hard to get
people to feel passion,
and express it.
Whether it's anger or happiness,
people would find a way
to be open about it.
It's not about just voicing your
opinion on topics,
it's about living hard,
feeling strongly,
loving passionately.
Nobody feels anymore,
and those of us that do have
been turned into aliens for feeling,
feelings loudly.

Because we are alive.

You could tell me that you're
not the one I'm looking for,

but you'd be wrong.

Although,
I'm sure that now I'm just another
name; that sometimes;
hardly ever, occasionally, comes up
in a conversation.
And you might think for a second
and,

"Ah! Yeah I know who you mean!"

and a memory of the two of us
might light up in your mind,
but then you'll go right back to
remembering all that time you
spent forgetting about me.

Have you ever had to come
to the realization that
the ex that you broke up with,
ended up "winning" pre split.
I never for a second,
thought at the time that I
would be anything but
extraordinary,
and that life would be
exciting.
I was supposed to be
extra ordinary.
The next thing I'm going to
hear, is that he's engaged to
be married to a beautiful
red head with long hair,
and eyes that are excentuated
perfectly with little eye liner
and mascara.
And is everything I am
still trying to be.
It's not even that I regret
leaving him,
it's that I turned out to be
the loser,
who's still living at home with
her parents,
works a terrible fast food job,
and has no money,
no adventures,
a dull love life.
It's just a terrible feeling
when one day you realize,
you lost.

I saw a rainbow on my way
home tonight.
I can't think of a better way to end
such an important day for love.
Equality matters.
It felt good to come home
to my house in a new country
where love is being celebrated.
My heart is glowing for all of those that have fought so hard for the right
to happiness.
And for my brother.
This one is for him.

I miss my
baby.
I wish we could
just live together
already,
so we never have to
be apart.
I want to spend the
rest of my days
with him,
have babies that
inherit his smile,
and take his last name
as mine.
I'm so in love,
I'm blind,
and all I want
are his arms around me.
Love

   Love

Love
                 Love
      Love

Hickeys get you
into trouble.
Maybe, you're not
supposed to have one.
It's a dead give away
you're sexually active.
Work won't think it's funny,
your parents don't wanna see it.
Your friends say it's ******.
And it's permanent for
a few days,
like a tattoo you didn't
choose to get,
they don't wash away.

Hickeys get you into
trouble.
But that's what makes them
so fun.

I had cigarettes
and diet coke for lunch
because Speedway was out
of pizza and
half an hour is not
enough time to wait in
line in this town.
I have too many hours
until I get to go home
and all I want to do is smoke ****.
A sandwich would be nice too.

I'm having cigarettes
and hot chocolate for lunch
today,
because once a month
Mother Nature comes around
and replaces my appetite
with the need to smash
things instead.
I'm sitting in my car
watching all the people
drive by and wishing
I was one of them,
because at least then I
wouldn't be at work right now.

Maybe I'm a compulsive liar.
I just lied to my boyfriend
about not being at home already,
because I got off work an hour ago,
and could've come over,
but instead went home.
And then I got caught in my lie,
and talked my way out of it.
And now I feel so guilty,
because I know what he's thinking,
when really I'm just insane.
And I can't say that either because
then he'll wonder what else I've been
hiding.
And if I wasn't actually hiding
something that wouldn't be a problem.
My conscience is too good.
You would think that by now
I wouldn't learned to stop
lying.

I wish I could wake up and
feel happy.
I'm so tired of the same old thing.
Wake up, go to work,
get off work,
go to sleep.
Repeat.
Where's the adventure,
the fun.
Why don't I live every moment,
in a state of who cares,
this will be over soon.
I think I'm going to do mushrooms
tonight after work.
Maybe I need this right now.
Maybe that's why he gave them
to me.
Or maybe he loves me.
Why does every passing minute
feel like some sort of sentence and
I'm just waiting for it to be over.
I have to get a new job.
I have to find happiness while
I'm still young,
or someday I'll be 52 and
everything that I used to
think was magic,
will be gone.

I understand that you
may not care or simply just
don't know about
this thing that plagues
me every day.

This uncontrollable addiction
to pull out my hair.

I heard something the other day
that describes it all perfectly.
The anxiety isn't in my head,
it's in my hands.

They are magnets.

I am afraid of what might happen.
What I could do.

I was afraid of what
I saw in the mirror,
as I brushed my hair
back, after I got out
of the shower.

I didn't know it was that
b a d .

I look horrible
today.
I have huge dark
circles underneath
my eyes,
and acne covers my
face like splattered paint.
I don't sleep enough.
I'm always awake,
driving some where,
working,
or seeing my boyfriend.
I live off of
coffee, cigarettes,
and ****.
Always trying to
stay energized,
while I get a buzz.
I knocked my coffee
over at the Speedway
this morning,
and ran away.
I smoked a joint
before I went in..
don't judge me.

I decided to
take
the last few minutes of
sunlight
that was left from this beautiful
day,
and stick it in my
pocket
for ones that aren't so
good.

If you don't mind,
I'd like to join you by
your side.

-Tim Burton

Everybody asks,
Why don't you grow
out your hair?
And I just say,
I like it.

It reminds me of
who I used to be.
In a way,
it keeps me grounded
in a world full of
superficial women,
and money.

Grungy,
odd,
unique.

Whether you like the cut
or not,
it stands out in a room
full of girls with
hair down to their *****.

I'm not saying I'm special,
but it makes me feel that way.

I have realized that in a way
writing so much on here
about all of my sadness and
anger and longing has not
been good for me.
It's unhealthy.
Letting myself wallow
in pity and keeping quiet
about my feelings.
It triggers me to pull my hair
because of my anxieties,
just being there to read and re-read.
I want to be happy and healthy
and be okay with the life
I have.
I was afraid to write positively
because I fear that you readers
don't like that as much as
when I write about the crap in life.
But I'd appreciate the support.
We're all on the
pursuit of happiness,
just, sometimes it takes
awhile to get there.

Today,
while cleaning
my car,
I vacuumed out the spot by the
ash tray and uncovered
a tiny purple ring.
It was put there two years ago
by one of my best friends.
Suddenly I actually remembered
her doing that,
and countless good memories
came flooding back.
I actually stopped what I
was doing,
and couldn't stop saying
wow!
Driving around,
jamming music and
"Cruising for dudes."
Talking about boys,
sneaking beers,
and smoking ****.

She spent some of the best
days of my life with me,
and she was the best,
best friend I've ever had.
I miss her.

You may not know
how much my soul
adores hearing you say
that my words have
power.
That is all I have ever
wanted..
To connect with somebody
through my writing,
and leave a lasting impression
on you.
I'd be lying if I said
I don't still look for your
car at Speedway
before I pull in.
Or skip that glance
as I drive by your road
after work,
because this time,
I might see you.
In a way it's like you're
my guardian angel
who's still here on earth,
because you are the only
one who believes in me,
and what I have to say.
You lift me up right before
I'm about to give up.
Maybe that's why I have
always called you my sunshine.

You make me happy,
*when skies are grey.

I can do this.
I can make it through today
without becoming unemployed.
I'm not going to let these
old, unhappy women make
me like them.
Im 19 and at the prime of
my life.
I'll just keep my grind on
and know that I'm a badass,
I am strong,
I am independent,
and I can make it through today
without blowing up.
I'm not going to let them make
me cry,
because one of these days
I'll be able to tell these
people to go **** themselves
and this place.
They're just mad because this
is where they are after
63 years of not doing ****
with their lives,
but when I'm their age,
I'll be a ******* queen
and people like these
will still be jealous of
my fabulous ***.

I am the person
who says that
New Years resolutions are
*******,
but I think that on this
lonely, sick night
I need to hope for a better future.
Maybe it's okay that I'm
ending the year still recovering
from the flu,
smoking 2014's last bowl,
and not feeling like my life
is where I want it to be.
They say once you hit the bottom,
that there is no where to go
but
u
      p.
So,
my New Years resolution
is to allow myself to be happy,
and not allow anyone else to
prevent it, or hold me back.
To make myself proud,
and to take more time to
take care of my
mind,
body,
and
soul.

I finally caved and dyed
my hair again,
after months of letting it go,
just too lazy to care.
I came out of the shower
with the same off blonde
color I've had for years.
No roots!

I should be in bed,
but it's always hard to sleep
alone after laying next to someone
the night before.
I enjoy being by myself,
but I've never enjoyed an empty bed.

He wakes me up at 3 in the morning
with kisses that turn into more,
we smoke cigarettes,
and I go back to sleep as he
continues to stay up into
the night.
I like it this way.

Not the way it is now.

The cat is laying at
my feet,
and there are people
in my living room
doing dabs,
choking and coughing.
My neighbors and my room mates.
I am lying here,
high as the moon myself,
thinking about how I needed
to capture this moment
for some reason.
A train goes by again,
and my fan is whirring in
the window.
The cat moves her head.

It's been a good night

I have begun to wonder if
I will ever be able to share my
writing with the person that
I am dating.
It's where I'm most vulnerable,
most selfish,
I talk about things that might
upset the person I'm with.
But that's me.
So how am I supposed to accept
that some people may never accept
my past and everything that I am.

Sometimes,
when it's starting to get
late into the night
I hear the faint grumble
of a dirt bike.
Or, what I think is a dirt bike.
And I wonder
if it's
him.
What if he rides by
my house in the cover
of darkness,
because he knows that
I'll hear him.
And he misses me.
But that's just a nice memory.
I would be shocked
if it were still true.

People throw around
the word 'legend'
too often these days.
Claiming that some
9 year old who can sing
on YouTube is as great
as the greats.
Unless they've really
done something that
had made a difference
for the better of humanity,
than, no,
I would never call them
a legend.

I will always feel so
pretentious talking about
this in any form.
But my anxiety really took over
today.
I couldn't focus,
I was hot and cold all day,
I was shakey,
and could not keep my hands
out of my hair.
Today was tough.

I want to tell him
that it wasn't fair to
finally ask me to be his,
when he knew I was someone else's.
Especially since we both considered
ourselves in the friend zone
with each other,
because I was taken.

I haven't heard from him since
that evening when he asked me if
I wanted to give us a try.

And I said, not right now.

He couldn't be my friend,
because he wanted to be my everything.

'Cause you are the only one
and all my friends have gone to find
another place for their hearts collide.
Just promise me you'll always be
a friend.
'Cause you are the only one.

I've been pulling out my hair
faster than I can grow it.
Frustrating isn't even the word
I would use to describe this.
I fear that one day I could wake up
and it will be gone.
I wish I could wake up one day
and it will be fine.
But I know that this is my
mountain to climb,
and even as I sit here twirling
the hair that I never imagined
would be at this length;
around my finger,
I know that one day I'll be
on the other side of this
and wonder how it ever happened.

I felt that old feeling
I used to get when
you are around.
Positivity.
Happiness.
And how appropriate
that we ran into each other
on such a nice day.
After all, you are my sunshine.

Have you ever just
wanted to cry so badly,
but you can't?
Like, stuff that usually
would bring a tear to your
eye, just doesn't anymore.
But you're not invincible to
all of it.
You just save it.
Stick it in that file cabinet
with all the other ****
in it in the back of your head.
Until one day,
it's like something happens
and all the people in the office
inside your brain just pick
up handfuls of files
and toss them in the air.
And you stand there and watch
as all of that paper just
sinks to the floor.
But eventually you have to
clean up the mess and throw
it away,
and all is okay;
and then your file cabinet
is empty.
Until it starts to get full again..