I'll never sing of love, if it does not exist...

I've listened to this song a few times...but of course now, while I'm at the coffee shop trying to do work, I listen to it and almost have a private showing of the ugly cry. Seriously. I'm holding back tears in the corner, where thankfully, no one can see me. There are few songs these days where I feel like I'll cry at the drop of a hat. I'm so far from my emotional side that it seriously scares me most days.

I used to be overly emotional about everything, and most people would probably still agree that I am overly emotional. However, from the former emotional-aholic, I can tell you that I cry nowhere near as much as I used to, and I find myself less and less moved by things. The thing that has filled its place? Jaded.

What the hell happened to me?

There's another Paramore song that has lyrics that go something like this:

You look like i did
You resist me just like this
You can't tell me to heal
And it hurts remembering how it felt to shut down

You can't be too careful anymore
When all that is waiting for you
Won't come any closer
You've got to reach a little more

Now, of course this is taken out of context of the whole picture, but it hurts to remember how it felt to shut down since it seems like I can't do it anymore. I can't block out the rest of the world like I used to, and it doesn't make any sense. This song, is one of my newest addictions, and if I could be a rocker like Hayley Williams, I totally would.

Here's the song that set me off this morning:
The Only Exception by Paramore.

When I was younger
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his own heart
And I watched
As he tried to reassemble it

And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love
If it does not exist

But darling,
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

Maybe I know, somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
Keep a straight face

And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable, distance
And up until now
Paramore The Only Exception lyrics found on http://www.directlyrics.com.com/paramore-the-only-exception-lyrics.html
I had sworn to myself that I'm
Content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

Well, You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

I've got a tight grip on reality
But I can't
Let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving
In the morning, when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream

Ohh---

You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, And I'm on my way to believing

I really need to fall down the rabbit whole for a little while and experience some fantasy instead of all of the harsh realities of life. I feel like I need to get lost in a great novel about now...and not come out for awhile.

Vampy Sun-Hater

The last few days have been lovely here, but I can't stand all the sunlight. Now, I'm not saying I don't like it to be warm, or that I don't like it to be bright outside, but does it have to shine right the fuck in my face? No, no, it doesn't. What I mean to say is that I'm a night owl. I prefer to be up longer in the night time hours and I'm never fully awake until after noon. I can't handle all of the sunlight. It's hard to find sunglasses that fit over my glasses and I'm not wearing those fucking clip on ones. Now, you're probably asking why I'm not putting in my contacts...well, that quite frankly takes too long and I don't wake up with enough time to do that in the morning. I literally give myself just enough time to shower, get dressed, and hopefully run out the door with everything that I needed. This is where my obsessive planning comes in handy. If i lay out everything the night before (i.e. my stuff, not my clothes...) then I've got things at least in the same spot so I can just grab it all and go.

My lack of planning as of recent has been getting on my nerves. I've effectively taken about 4 days off from doing ANYTHING. I've gone to work, sure, but I haven't cleaned, I haven't done school work, and I haven't really gotten any reading done. What does that mean? I've been a freaking bum on the couch watching tv and movies. The things that I did actually do weren't absolutely necessary, but they're finished, right? Well, I guess that's something.

I've been in a rather awkward mood since the last post and I still feel that way. I think it just hit too close to home and I'm trying to come to terms with it. But, that doesn't mean I'm not still freaked out. Oh, decisions, decisions. I'm just not good at getting over things I guess...

Late Nights

Have you ever had one of those eerie experiences where you feel like someone else knew exactly what you were thinking, but documented it decades earlier in a novel you randomly chose to pick up? Perhaps I read too much, or it's bound to happen, or one of those bullshit sayings where people try to get around saying that fate doesn't exist. But what if I believe in fate?

There are certain things that happen in our lives that we can't, even as rational human beings, explain. So what do we do then? Cut and paste the moments back together to form a single storyline. Something that makes sense has to come out of this whole experience, right? I mean, it can't be coincidence that the story fits... It's definitely a sign, but a sign of what? A sign that someone else knows what I'm going through, that someone else had these thoughts too, that someone else knew this would happen to me? It's like reverse dejavu or something. But, how can you have dejavu for something that happened to someone else? Isn't it supposed to be about your own experiences?

I'm trying to piece this story back together in a way that doesn't make it seem completely creepy that part of the story fits so closely to the inner workings of my mind that I wanted to throw the book across the room and give up. I no longer want to read about my own crazed head, but I read to get lost in the character's minds. When it hits close to home, however, it seems harder and harder to pick up the book and finish. Beautiful writing, though it may be, the book is staring me in the face wanting me to pick it up again and finish. I'm more than half way through...past the point of no return. But, when the story seems to weave into your own life, doesn't it become too damn creepy to continue?

I'm sure I'll continue on with the book...but at least for now, it'll have to sit on the desk staring me in the face, laughing at my fears.