FINALLY!

So. I met this AMAZING guy.

Shannyn

All you know is getting high

Wanna learn how to make a pipe out of a can?

You know how to do it.

Wanna score some dope and smoke it in our van?

You can get the stash.

You've had some great times.

That you'll never remember,

And you believe all your self-proclaimed lies,

About how things will get better.

You don't wanna be like your mother?

Babe, I can already see you becoming her.

You wanna leave this town?

But how you gonna do that when your stuck in your self?

I remember when

We would talk until the sun rose

And when you were so smart I envied you

And all the things we shared no one will ever know

All the things that you can't remember.

I wish it still was

Like last summer you were your self and we were best friends...

But things have changed.

No one stays the same,

And your crazy

If you think that it'll all be okay.

You are fuckin crazy

If you think Ill still be here

When you wake up someday.

My Skyline

I think the most beautiful moments we encounter happen when we have the least amount of self-awareness. Like the other day. I was with some friends in a little crappy area by the platt. We had a space-bag of wine, a camera, and the punk rock spirit that I love. Now, first of all, if you read that last line and rolled your eyes, you obviously have not ever experienced a community bound together by music and morals. If you have, I'm sure you understand what I mean by "Punk rock spirit". It is something intangible and beautiful.

As the day stretched on, we got progressively drunker. Soon, we were singing about how we were all farmers and we were so tired because we had been farming all day. Who the fuck knows how we get these things? We just do. As I was laying on the ground beneath a dogpile that consisted of my friend Brazil rolling around on my stomach, I noticed that I felt happy. Yes, part of that was the alcohol. But part of it was that in that moment I felt perfectly innocent. It didn't matter that my lips were stained with cheap red wine, or that i was switching between wearing no shirt and my friend Jackson's ripped up one. I was a child. Rolling on the ground with complete abandon with a bunch of other kids. We throw feathered boas at each other, and give impromptu piggy-back rides. The words "I love you" are used freely, and holding hands means nothing more than "lets be friends".

In the fading light of Denver, surrounded by the debris of a hundred lives, we were living ours to the fullest. Suddenly, it didn't matter that I had spent my former years being called a freak, or getting kicked in the lunch line. I was accepted here. Encouraged. I didn't need to put on an act. I could finally have the care-free childhood that Id been to scared to have.

Walking down the street, if you were to see a bunch of kids in weird, ripped clothing with mohawks and orang hair stumbling arm-in-arm around the 16th street mall you would think something along the lines of "delinquents" "losers" or "worthless wast of space". You would think that our clothes are ripped because we get in fights. That we had stupid grins on our faces cause we were high. But in reality, we ripped our clothes playing in the creek, and were smiling cause we're happy. We don't dress this way to isolate ourselves. We dress this way to see who is willing to get passed it and learn who we really are.

Oh, Boy.

So there is this couple that has a blog about their adventures together, their thoughts, musings, etc. It seems like such a genuine thing you know? I am disgusted and annoyed and maybe a little bit jealous. Why can't I have that? Don't I deserve that kind of connection, that kind of happiness? Maybe I don't. What kills me is that I did have it, once, and it ended. And I'm scared that that was maybe my one go at it at all. Like, maybe I will have no other chances at that. I don't know why I feel this way, but I do. It was such a shock that I found it...I guess "love" is what you would call it, even though the word "love" doesn't seem to hold enough weight anymore...that I stupidly thought, oh wow, lucky me. This must be it. You know, IT. Like THE ONE. But I obviously wasn't his ONE. Not that he cheated on me or did anything bad to me. He just stopped loving me. Don't really know why. All I know is that the only genuine, good, awesome guys out there are my close friends. Which, don't get me wrong, is great and I love those guys. But I am always friend status. Just another one of the burping, punk rock playing, pizza guzzling, guys. And I don't always want to be that. I want to, just for once, be that beautiful girl that some guy loves, who loves him back. Because it is either I get the womanizing assholes or the borderline creepy nerdy guys. I mean, I don't GET them, but they're the only ones who WANT me, you know? What's wrong with me? Why aren't I good enough for the good guys? Why Can't I find the medium between "just friends" and possibly more? Do I open up to easily? Am I too guarded about the things I shouldn't be? Am I not flirty enough? I hate flirting. It seems so phony. So bullshit. I just want it to be....easy I guess. No not easy. Just not so hard. All I know is that I miss him.