Seeing you for the first time was not a breathtaking moment. Seven years old, however diverted, could not have been graceful in any manifestation. You had collected sap and white tree worms into your afroesque caveman hair, and was crouched cut, bleeding, hiding under the porch holding silent contempt. I remember you lighting a christmas tree on fire.





At twelve you stopped accepting the formality of dressing up. Up to that point, one green and one a red dress with white lace had been your favorites, both equipped with silk gloves -which you consequetly minded to take off before your first bare fist fight. It was a sham. Female mockery of sport until a boy broke up the mood for a forced romantic encounter. How long could you hold your virginity posture in tact?





So lady, let me take a look at you now. How fares the peace of mind? Can ugly stuffed animals still absorb your bad karma and thoughts if you hold them while concentrating long enough? Does Darth Vader still visit you at night to paralyze your left arm? Will I ever again be gifted cookies whose dosage of suger was replaced by salt?





The picture sentimentalizes today's bad call receptioning. Last night's soft core. Heres a heartfelt thanks to the douchebags who left me her complete and thorough attention.

Homages arent meant for longevity. From the mouth of one, through the words of the other.

Third day in reno:

I woke up several times in the night throughout the process of one prolonged emotional nightmare. I dreamt I had hacked -slashed -cut into the scalp of keeley while I took away her hair. Then I glued it all over the body of a manican whose head I cut off. Then I beat the shit out of the manican and stabbed its breasts full of needles. The act, and everyone's reactions, my long outcast -since I committed and buried it on school grounds, was the most disturbing part for me.

Dreams.

contacted Fernando. perhaps I'll meet him this saturday. its been quite a few years, dad.

And when I get back: I'm asking the councilor to pull keeley out of class and isolate her in the conference room with me. I don't think about her or craig all day. They aren't near my thoughts when I sleep. But every night I have worsening dreams about them and my emotional attachments in the worst light. I suppose I can start sleeping better if I confront her.

Werewolves of London is one of my favorite songs to be memorized. heard. slept through. dreamt of. +motorist. who? The radio doesn't stop its consistent playlist of eighties. so it says. I just really wish it was werewolves of THUNDER instead. swear to fucking god I would cut myself over a bible if I thought it had the power to change the name of that song.


When I was honestly fifteen years old. I continue to sway people, saying I'm fiteen. Though, I expect to be nineteen in a few months. I enjoy myself.

The theme song from Breakfest Club is playing.

I. am. emotionally on the path to being over Craig. And friends with Keeley. I can't detail this evolution. It's been exhausting. (friends with keeley, minus craig)

Not as myself though. I have to steal the account and identity of my oldest friend, Derek Jonathen "myspace.com/erosforhomoeroticism" -known only by his middle name, and contact her for long personal conversations while being him.. I think its all I'm capable of to HUMANIZE her. I'd be nice.

I keep trying. The system strives.



Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net


once. I made ONE mistake in the middle of a hazy sleepless night. And it went all over the wall. I konked out on the couch eventually, without noticing. But the thing is: mom's only reaction is ever anger that I'm wasting her food and not cleaning up after myself. I know this habit is ultimately out of a battle for interpersonal control: to self harm the hatred, depression, anxiety: to mainly control a deviation from physically attacking people to express myself: how can I explain that? I grew up in an extremely violent home that gave me a severe anxiety disorder. That whenever I became emotionally distraught, my anxiety attacks were violent. How can I explain that? I want to eat a person and throw up canibalism. explanation: from within the two d boundaries of a comic book. or short narrative.

bulimia.

I move on. I don't see this as a permanent phase in my life or sincere factor of my make up. I'm working on it. I've been making grand improvement over the past two years. Wish I could express that better.


I went to watch some horrorfest today. I only wanted to see Reincarnation, but that was incidentally.. yesterday. So I had to settle for Gravedancers. WHERE WAS THE EXTREME VIOLENCE GORE? I had my impression .. expectations misconstrued. I felt like I was waiting for something good to happen. more like: ....rubbery faces and cgi.

no nudity when we have one villain as a sexual predator?

dismall bitches.

even one good scene: the body bleeding under the white sheet whispering "hey". It would have been comical if the girl had tried to run with the body hanging on and rolling behind her, attatched, causing the girl to go into a hysterical panic trying to get away. For five seconds, that would have been relief.


I kinda think so. And there should have been a rape scene with Kiera. Because of the huge let down, I skipped out on paying for the next two: abandoned, penny dreadful: and just left. It'll be cheaper to rent them all at once coinciding with a romantic date.


hammertime is on my radio. Keeley has an edgy sharp man chin.



fake and shiny.

My natural ears are even better than her fake cat ones. (no prominent lobes)

I'm hitting the end of this with: Janey's got a gun.

Before I sleep. His name is Bryce. Or its Mike. Thomas maybe. But it could also be the janitor. I might be secretly falling in love with the school's janitor.

This isn't wierd though. Because he just graduated a year or two ago. He's tall, parts black hair, and reminds me of Rupert Everett. Actually.. thats probably the only reason. So. Shit. I'm building up a romanticised fantasy around him being like Everett in cemetary man. I'll make up his life for him, thoughts, follow him around waiting for him to look up: then be surprised that he has fish eyes, no defined chin, loose my fantasy, wander back to the locker room's mirror and wait for someone to walk by for the moment I (descript) frusterated.

I didn't do much today. That plan, well, I had to drop the profile in the hall when a door opened and abandon. The plan has been revised with little effort.

I leave in less than a week. I have no money for horrorfest, but I do have a seventeen year old virgin following me around. And he's rich. I think we can make the best of this situation for the both of us. I really do actually like him too, otherwise I'd never consider it. Screw that portrait hijack: I'm busy.

I hate the music on my radio.

I have no respect for my teeth. or Dean Koontz.

It went fine. After the emotional confession, he grabbed onto me and said: "I'll always be a friend if you need one." In the back of my mind -or possessing it: I'm a girl, I hope for things. But it was a win win situation that gave me the closure I needed to get over him. And I only lied once to get it.

I didn't tell him that he has no inner personal strength. Because Craig distracts himself from introspective painful realization moments. He doesn't know himself very well. He completely depends on the existance of another person to make him happy. So he can keep feeding on that constant social energy high. Rather: Its a good thing you have Keeley during this time, because that strengthens your bond with her, which makes you happy because 'you need her'. And for your happiness I don't resent her.

"What? Where the fuck does this come from?" my skull cracked.

I already indulged myself by destroying all of images of her awards and newspaper clippings off the school boards and have a plan in action for tonight's hijacking of her self portrait in the art room: and although I'm aware of what I'm doing and how embaressed I should be, I've never really had to deal with these emotions before, I assume its human nature, I'll let it play out as long as it stays to these futile little insignificant things: where do I get the gull to say anything positive about her when everything she symbolizes.. all of the insecure angry accumulations that manifest as her.. I had that drink and it didn't do anything.

The counselor, I went to her, told me that although I'm an amazingly fine girl with a skinny neck (out of the place compliment?), I need to have a personal private sit down with Keeley. I responded that I would really anticipate such a scenario because she hasn't been close enough to me for the three minutes it takes to conjure a reguritation I could lend her for fine damn appreciation.

Forget it. Forget Craig. I told him I want him to stay away from me so I can have some solitary time to heal.

All of these feelings bring out characters in me I don't admire: and I don't want. I won't admit that this is the person I'm am.

So: HORRORFEST!!! damn right. Fix my black crocheted slippers for wear. Buy sun dress. Pack my bags for the mental vacation week and hopeful emotional purge in RENO. and watch more movies..

Your manifest of pinkyfloyd may be KrissyBunny.

My pinkfloyd remains to be craig. The l33t n00b master...


friday, august 11

P.S. 3Y3 10../3 J00 5|-|4!/../4 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



The only element I can appreciate currently: is fire. In producing proof to my statement: I spend my sleepless nights laying with on an afghan in front of the woodstove tending to it throughout.

I made progress and called Carly. She had several too many hard drinks last night, then passed out to wake up at four thirty the next day. Wist provoking. I'm allowed to drink in the house. I just never have. For no reason. Do I mind? Not really.

Problem: can't sleep. Haven't fully for the past two weeks. Being aggravated by this.

Solution: ...linger.


lucid awareness --A werewolf was softly humping my thigh last night. He wore a fedora and had blue eyes with an extremely dark pupil. Somehow that was especially odd. Then he floated away into a white doorway. The message was: tattoo me in the pose of Adam's in davinci's creation of him on your thigh reaching towards your chest. And get over it.

It was definitely Maxwell.

his neighbor gave him a fedora when he was twelve. Max wore that thing dutifully everytime he had to be in public, until he was fifteen. Exactly how I remember meeting him. Now that he's eighteen, he just wears aviators everyday.

and has a skin problem at the right corner of his mouth.

and rests his ankle on his knee in class

until he starts fidgeting funny out of his anti-social /anxiety nerves: to which point he begins punching that elevated foot. then staring. CAN I ASSUME IT HAD FALLEN ASLEEP?! 'dorable.

and has dried blood in his ear

likes my frankenstein memorabilia. which I bought because it was on clearence and the actual presence of frankenstein reminds me alot of max already: clothing wise: body height staturekinda wise: communicatable expression wise: horror connection sentimentality wise.

Those are some strong things I remember him for.

dried blood. so freaking cute.
I've never actually had a desire to lick off dried blood before from the inside of someone's ear.

Besides that. most of the time. I could feel myself getting magnetically sexually excited getting to just simply sit next to him. I put most of those scenarios to the use of my gratifying benefit.

Those earrings are pierced through with a skinny stick appendage. My ears are not stretched and never will be. Personal preference.

Some time ago I humiliated myself by approaching Craig and asking if he still wanted to go with me to get my nose pierced. When we were a couple this was suppose to be a big deal. So were our plans to camp out in an rv over night at FredMeyers for the release of wii. But he shot me down to spend the entire weekend with Keeley. for the wii.

I can't sleep. I'm loosing weight. Constant dreams to be considered as nightmares about him. Having spasms of physical pain from stress. The constant emotional sobbing crying wailing breakdowns and physical violent spurts. The purging. This is all an accumulation of negative emotions from throughout the summer. The domestic abuse, the isolation, depression. Confusion - self hatred , its taking over and changing me. Craig is just one way for the manifestations to focus themselves.

These little things should be nothing.

I can't leave Alaska in this mental state. I won't be able to relax, love, be happy or ultimately appreciate my existance there in Reno. I'll fall into myself even deeper. I have this insane craving to be near him.

So heres the plan: because I don't have the nerve to sit around and let this play out. I need to comfront and create closure with Craig. The "I'm not begging for a return of your affections, but have to tell you how much you meant and still mean to me, so I can move on with your forgiveness. I really need to get over you, please help me through this closure ritual so I can feel emotionally purged to get over you in a less negative obsessive way."

I will isolate him upstairs. Pull him away from lunch on Monday. We will have to sit with our backs to each other because I can't think when I'm looking him in the face. I could really use this.

okay
so the whole time i was reading this
i was trying to remember
if i had ever even met jonathen
and at the end
how relieved i was that it was you
and thankyou
and i am always so fucking preoccupied with everything
but i would like for some time
to just lay on the floor with you
stare at the cieling
and make strange noises
and maybe, eventually conversation
i am a nutcase shaina
any influence i make on people
is probably just making them a little less sane
but maybe that's not a bad thing
last night i had a total rebirth of myself
and there were no healing waters
well i guess i did cry but mostly
i just kind of decided that everything was okay
and that even though i'm so fucked in the head
i'm okay with that
and i think that you are the most beautiful girl
i have ever seen
and you're hair in the rain is amazing
you might never realize how cool you are
simply because you're the only person i know
that doesn't try to be different
you just are
and you probably hate that
but i love it

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Jonathen
Date: Nov 8 2006 9:33 PM


carly, I took over this account. mine.



i miss you.



So, I'm sorry I have no real in person ettiquete. Or social skills. Unless I'm actually doing something with someone, I can't open up very well. And I find that when I'm around people, I act different -more silent and relcusive than I actually am- and that only physically aggravates me because I get frusterated and angry. I have no idea what I'm doing when I was or am around you / people.

AT LEAST by - on the day I turn nineteen - I have to try again.

I suppose my entire mo in mailing you this time is to let you know I haven't forgotten about you. You remain very prominent as an aspect in my reality. Your there. Your just cemented. Like a fact. If you know what Im saying. Your in my head, and I think you may have even influenced who I'm growing up to be.

definitely.

SO: still thinking of you.



Shaina.



Yes. If I really think about it: I should be with her: we both want to be near each other, friendship wise absolutely thats for sure, but we both restrain for some reason: when we could make each other happy.

I want to pursue her now. Starting this weekend. This is big for me.



After Max finishes inviting me and Lettie to (and for the first time) come over to his house and watch an odd refined short series of selected horror films. Horror cinema just so happens to be the entirety of his life with a byproduct being the imdb boards.



Keeley

Laughed.
Touched.
gagged a little after I punched her throat. cried when I made her eat dead raw baby moose out of a trash can with her hands. squirmed just a bit more when I cut chunks of skin off her scalp during the time I was removing her badly colored shiny fake red dyed hair. her head bleeds out of three holes on top. Her tongue has a maggot living inside burrowed. And there just still happens to be that dick getting harder sewn in where her apple was.



Lettie made it to the hospital today.

Through evil.


I went to go pick her up after someone fixed my car. Only. She never had any intention of leaving for the in-town hopsital. She told me once she was in that I was taking her to the big city - Anchorage.


I cannot handle driving in the city.

I can't stand driving in the night.

I've been in near death car accidents -due to myself, and I am extremely stressed driving in unusual situations.

Plus, my anxiety kicks in.

There are multiple things wrong with the car.


Somehow: she persuaded me.

Then I didn't know my way out. I told her I was done shitting around at the malls for no reason with her screaming children -wasting the money I've been saving for my trip to reno, a hundred and fifty -and making me skip school when its the only thing keeping me essentially alive. She said she would guide me out of town. But she only directed me to the opposite side of town so she could go to another store. The entire time I kept asking her specifically where I was going and she lied to me everytime claiming she was taking me home.

When I started crying three stops later: BECAUSE APPEARENTLY THE CUSSING AND SCREAMING WAS GETTING ME NOWHERE: I finally hit the right road. at night. on ice. it was a freeway.




But Carly enlightens my future. Glad I have one.






I'm going to kill someday. Just prefer that out there.

I had an old journal once where everything about me was paragraphs long. I can’t re-accomplish that style because I’m drained. My days have become very emotionally chaotic. Ordeals actually happen to me. Inflicted would be a good term. At least lately.

( My Best Friend )

Lettie lives in authentic absolute poverty. She’s an Alaskan Native. Her father is white trash. Morbidly obese. She is his second daughter, and the only mildly sane one out of the three –father, daughter, and daughter. We assume her mother is a native alcoholic hiding in some bush village.

Her sister was allegedly raped at a young age. Crazy anyway. Missing three of her front teeth, and was sent to a mental institution in Idaho where she tried to strangle the security guard with braided dental floss. Only my dentist appreciates that story. When she got out, she gave birth to two kids, then left them at the shack where my Lettie lives and told her she would be raising them. Lettie was fifteen. Lettie… ‘s every move is controlled by her father. He doesn’t even allow her to leave the house to go to public school. Then he insults her by calling her a drop out.

I once wrote a story once about a zombie invasion to Alaska. In which: Lettie had snuck out for the day –but took her radio leash with her so her dad could still call her every five minutes, to which she would lie she was buying groceries- and the zombies attacked her house.

You see, her father lives in one room and never leaves it other than to go to the bathroom. On the radio he calls Lettie to bring him food, etc.

So. Huge morbidly obese man gets lavished on by the zombies while he screams into the radio. And because he’s of such a colossal, enormous mass –it lasts for quite a while and Lettie won’t turn the radio off. Eventually it goes silent. For a few minutes. When it resounds, her father is moaning his angry death noises.

Later on in the story, at the end: Lettie continues to live but with the reoccurring nightmare that she’s in the house being called by her father on the radio to bring him something to eat. Once she’s in his room with food, he then tries to force her to feed herself to him.

That wasn’t the bulk of the story- that was an aspect.

The battery in my car is dead. I have nothing to do.

I’m suppose to go to school today 2 pm to 9 pm. I HAVE CREATIVE WRITING TODAY for the first time and I’m going to miss it. Bitches.

I am suppose to be driving Lettie to the hospital today because she’s freakishly sick. Winter + her home is without heat. And last night, while she was on the phone with me, the oldest child stabbed one of the father’s diabetic needles into her hand.

I could use your heart. I could chew off her apple. Its in there. I would smear the fat from your breasts across the working pannel. Open from flaps across where your nipples use to be. From those, I made candy. Here, I suck them, after spitting out her apple into your empty chest. Move them around the roof of my mouth with my tongue while I spoon out her eyes and slice open as well. Now, they lay flat across where your nipples did. After a few more body displacements, including your dick sewn into the center of her open throat, I combine you and determine you forthwith a FEMALE INSIDE THE MALE. And vice versa. May you continue to share each other ("charishingly forever").

She followed me. Keeley snuck behind me, so she could listen to me have an emotional breakdown.

Thats a sick violation.

Today: I found taunting proof to the existance of someone like me wandering in the same school vicinity.

Because she appearently doesn't practice good bathroom ettiquette.

she doesnt lift the toilet seat before she throws up. I'm sure she wiped the seat off, on top. But when I lifted it, because I'm considerate with my purge routine, there was a combination of food and koolaid backsplashed under the seat. I actually stared. with growing excitement.


Theres this new guy: I'm going to live off eye contact for the next few days.


My art teacher gave me a free sketchbook because she said my self portrait was the most personal achievment in her class. I felt alive. I tried to show Craig, but he barely nodded. Now I feel like borrowing Keeley's portrait and pissing on it before I put it back. It deserves it anyway: its anime. And its titled Enigma.

Yesterday: I completed a self portrait.