kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

same shit different day, same shit different state.

When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear.

best week of my life.

mon- passed my world civ midterm with a b, therefore i win at life.
tues- good charlotte at the cbs early show.
wed- saw v1 on campus, but of course i looked like a total bum.
thurs- photoshoot.
fri- who the fuck knows.

what goes up, must come down. when will this crash?

nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm

I can relate to that so much... do you know how much it hurts to dance after you cut yourself? and then they reopen and your blood is dripdripdripping all over the floor and you're making a mess of things, your perfect facade shattered, you're open and exposed for all of them to see.

i need to be strong, i can't crack. c-r-a-c-k. s-h-h-a-t-t-e-r (i put the shh in shatter). b-r-e-a-k. they're all the same.

i never knew you (don't give up on me)

i'm scared.

i was the one who was always repeating it

smoked a cigarette to "play crack the sky" by brand new; i'm oh so scene.
all i need to do is lose 80lbs, get some sick extensions (done by miz aud kitching, of course), buy some skinny jeans, and i'll be a scene queen.

what the hell have i become?

i shouldn't be allowed near my laptop after midnight.

if that ain't love, then i don't know what love is

i'm a chain-smoking, pill popping, self-inflicting fuck up.
i'm everything that i said i would never be.
this change is scaring me.
help me.

i never knew you (don't give up on me)

in response to this post: i want a chance to dance onstage with you guys on june 6th (or 5th, and then cashdolla and i will sing happy birthday to you!). please let me, it will make my life complete, and i'm just so awesome, how can you not have me onstage? but please, let me, i have pieces choreographed to every song on ioh, some things may be improvised (for "thnks fr th mmrs", during the chorus i want to do fouettes and double pirouettes, and i know that unless i bust my ass to work hard, i won't have them by the show), but it will look cool, i promise.

but seriously, i expect you to be crazier than you were on the last tour. i remember at the nyc show, you threw your mike stand on the ground and you were climbing onto the set, maybe you could do that a lot more. and ask the kids in the terrace to invade the orchestra, that would be sweet (hint hint). and maybe some acoustic stuff like "nobody puts baby in a corner" and please pay "xo" again. and a surprise guest cough*ryan and brendon*cough or 2 would be nice!

my shin splints are back. fuck. i almost started to cry during choreography practice because i was in so much pain.

speaking of choreo, the dance that i'm in is coming along so well, we have a lift, and it looks awesome.

didn't buy cigarettes or pop a ritalin today, that's a good sign.

self-destruct is on pause, but for how long?

can talk my way out of anything

i've hit my self-destruct button, and there's no turning back. 2 cigarettes and 2 fast food meals today, and i'm probably going to pop a ritalin tomorrow.

i also burned myself with a match the other night, and a lighter tonight, and i loved every second of it.

smoked my first 2 cigarettes tonight, and i have to buy a pack of decent ones tomorrow, i hate my mother's, they just suck. it actually relaxes me, and the funny thing is, i don't cough when i smoke, just when i breathe in some of it by accident. "i'm burning and i'm blacking my lungs, boy girl you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue.

i'm a fucking idiot, i failed an exam because i went off on a tangent instead of answering the goddamned essay. 48 on it, i'm so dumb.

straighten me up 'cause i'm falling out of line

oh so stressed and tired. just give me my degree, kthnx.

i need to pull my head out of the fucking clouds and stop daydreaming. i'll never be a member of the bands that i love, so why do i keep daydreaming about it? i'll never be famous, i'll never "make it" (but do i really wanna make it?), i'll be stuck on this island with its fake orange girls and frosted-haired boys forever.

they sure love to stare

dramadramadrama, we're still sixteen. talktalktalk, behind each other's backs. listen to us, we can help. controlling, he has such a grip on you that you don't see. open your eyes before its too late.

make a wish before its too late. oh, wait, it is. did you wish for me? i wished for you.

my old irish heart

Éireann go Brách.

if you're irish, party like you're proud to be. if you're not irish, party like you want to be!

fucking snow, one performance has been canceled so far.

let me think of a metaphor

you know what are fucking creepy- ventriloquist dummies. (saw that creepy puppet movie last night, my throat hurts from screaming)

the snow ruined the show and plans last night, and probably my st. patrick's day, which sucks 'cause i've been looking forward to that for weeks. its just performances, but i thrive on them, they're my favorite thing about this holiday.

step 1- slit my throat, step 2- play in my blood

didn't go out because my friends suck. might be going tomorrow night, i'm not sure.

i've fallen so far behind, and i don't know how to catch up.

st. patrick's day is this saturday, i'm so excited, its one of my favorite days of the year.

i still say you should call him p. star; when i go to the show i'm going to fucking scream it from my seat up in guam, and i know that you'll hear me. we should chill before the show, message me my dear on the land of fakes so we can plan.

I will dig a hole and label it love

constantly yo-yo-ing, up and down, high to low, i'm fucking sick of it. it climbs, drops, and plateaus, a never-ending cycle.

hellogoodbye april 22nd, fuck yes.

secret lovers, that's what we are

went out tonight, it was fun. made a scene in dunkin donuts, acted like a bunch of pervs, sang, told stores, high-kicked our way back to my house, good times.

i'm actually happy tonight, happier than i've been in a long time.

almost back up to my highest weight, please kill me now. my body just won't let go of the weight, why can't i have a normal body with a not-fucked up thyroid and no ovarian cysts?

going out on thursday night and getting trashed, i can't fucking wait.

i love how i think that i'm this amazing poetic writer when i'm really not. i'm just another fucked up kid with too much stuff to say, and this is how it comes out, influenced by the great writers of my time- palahniuk, ross, and wentz.

you're a regular decorated emergency

lost one best friend to her boyfriend, and now i'm losing one to pennsylvania for the second time, great.

you are strong, but you can't be strong for all of us, that's my job. i take your burdens and make them my own.

but darling you're not thinking straight

so she's back with the ex... and i lost my best friend. we barely saw each other when they were dating, i hung out with her more over the past few months than i did during the 2 years that they were together. she became so independent and confident, and now she's going to lose all that she gained because of him. fuck what the psychic said, you got back with the boy for a reason, and yet you break up with him for this asshole with no future. i know that they won't work out, and i really can't stand seeing her cry over him again, whenever she does, it breaks my heart because i can't say or do anything that will help her.

so i miss you like whoa. i really don't want you to try out for that because i know that you'll win because you're fucking amazing and then you'll get a big ego and have a teenie following and you'll forget about the people that care about you, and knew you before you became mr. hollywood. but you're a grown man, so i can't do anything to stop you... best of luck my dear, its not like you're gonna need it. and don't forget about me, please.

please stop critiquing everything that i do. i know that my timing is bad. i know that i don't hop. i know that i have to fly during that part of the dance. please stop, you make me feel like shit, like i'm the worst dancer ever (well i am), please, just stop. you're personally going after me, and i hate it. things like this are making me consider quitting after this year is done.

i've seen you cry, way too many times

it breaks my heart to see you like this, no boy is worth it. are you sure that he's your soul mate (don't believe everything that you hear)? you saw how much he changed, do you think that he'd go back to the way that he used to be if you got back together with him? i've seen love die way too many times, and i don't want to see it die again. don't break up with your boy to be with your ex, i don't think it will work out- trust me.

'till tonight do us part

i'm so exhausted and burned out from the weekend.

you're so cute, but way too young for me, why can't you be 19 or 20 instead of 17? and you're fucking hot when you roll blunts and smoke them, i never thought that i'd be attracted to a pothead (i also thought that i'd be sxe for life, but i broke edge like 3 years ago when i took my first drink), but i'm so attracted to you, and i barely know you.

ex-friends till the end

you're all talk, but can you back your shit up? drink up and throw those punches boys, because we'll be here to pick up the pieces. talking trash behind each other's backs, you're like a bunch of high school girls.

hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you

i'll keep your secrets safe if you keep mine. only we can know about this, its our secret language- either you get it, or you don't. can i really trust you? do you trust me?