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Avafawn
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Name: Toni
Interests: Writing . Music . Reading . Painting . Photography . Travel . Modeling . Scrapbooking . Love . Spanish . Imagination .
Expertise: Ask me yourself, should you ever find that you are curious.
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
AIM:  BulldogBullPuP
Yahoo:  Avafawn
Member Since:
12/22/2003
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| I feel all grown up with nowhere to go.
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| Before I cram it down my throat
At long last it's crashed, this colossal mass
Has broken up into bits in my moat.
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I spoke too soon.
Indeed now I am old and used like yesterday's news, lovelies. But I think we all saw this coming.
Yes we did.
Breathe in, write the paper, lean your head on your friend's lap and listen to the Shins as they tell you how life really should be.
I'm going home tomorrow for dead-day. I'll read, and take care of my mother, and mend my wounds.
I've been dumped.
I drew the line in the sand, all or nothing. And we end up with nothing.
Sobbing. Sobbing.
Drink the last tea he made for you while you still called him yours.
No more guitar boy with bright eyes.
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| It doesn't take long for boys to get tired of me. It doesn't take much to push me over the edge.
I sat the the hibachi after we snapped at one another in the car. Just sat there, wanting him to know that something was wrong. It would have made a world of difference if he had only asked.
He threw bits of garbage at me and laughed even when I grimaced.
We watched our friend open his gifts. I tried to smile. I tried to act like I didn't care that I feel like my emotions don't matter.
But when you're offensive, like he says, then I suppose it really doesn't make a difference. There's no reason to ask "Why are you sad?" or perhaps "What can I do?" It's very much, "Don't beat it into the ground." Or "Don't be sad."
Then my phone rings later. Like nothing is wrong. Like he didn't see tears in my eyes when I just wanted to KNOW that everything is okay.
We end by deciding that I should go home this weekend. No wait. I'll stay here but we won't see each other.
Sounds like he's tired of me. Sounds like I've been there, done that.
Intentions? Intentions are just our true desires given pretty outer shells.
That's what I am right now. A shell. ( I've been eaten from the inside out like sugar-cane until all that was initially delightful is gone.)
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| I wasn't this old yesterday. I blink slowly now, tell myself that time will slow down. Time will slow down. But deep down inside we all know it only gets faster from here. So lovelies, let's all play in the leaves when they start falling around us. Breath and laugh and freeze with runny red noses when the sun goes down. I remember innocence like a dirty little larvae. I don't know if it gets better or worse with time. Look around the room with sleepy eyes and try to understand what you're saying, kiddo. It all runs together, the literature papers and rain, second-person narrations, fog and day to night, then back to day and now declining to a ruddy pink evening again. I'm trying to remember the feeling of sprawling out wild-armed in a tiny bed with cotton sheets. Tonight I will give it a try. One month of love. Two writing colleagues whose poetry and words I cannot hope to equal. Three pale faces in an autumn home just looking for resolution. Four days of break in a not-so-far away kingdom with a Bible fortress, metaphorically. Look at the opened windows, stress a little about general education still haunting you. Be apathetic, you don't have a scholarship to worry about these days. Smile and find a way to finish what you had to say, and finally realize you never really had anything important to say to begin with. | | |
| Someone I am beginning to feel very close to has his own Xanga now. Hurray, hurray I say to myself because now I won't be the only kid with an online archive of ups and downs.
I am so very down right, but I tell you that I'm definitely not out. I almost was, but am not. I believe English Lit III has made a vast impact. Instead of retreating to deep blues and blacks and straight-razor edges, running myself into brick walls until I can't breath and my world is a blur of lights I sit in contemplation.
I would go into details but there are so very many to mention that by the time I'd be through, fall would have come and gone. And let me say that I would be the last person to miss a fall. ( Oh,a fall. I'm a pseudo-clever Hanz if you can catch the double meaning there, dears)
Happiness, I decided to day, may very well be a choice. And although I wanted to cry, I think I ran out of tears a while back. Or maybe I saw this coming. Oh God, I know I saw this coming.
I was falling like the raindrops fell this morning, and came to a sudden halt. Again, no deus-ex-machina to save me. No bike bells, no honking horns, no 'please wait, I've made a mistake' - just the sound of my own footsteps and the start of another shower as I walked, and walked, and walked and did not look back.
I sat in the stairway closet of a friend's apartment tonight. We had nothing to say, but at the same time we had everything to talk about. We were two Harry Potters hidden in our nook, surrounded by words and giggling and candidate debates.
I am so very low, but so very alive. Broken, so broken and confused. But God, I am alive. That is all I can really ask for.
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