rina
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2006 18 March :: 12.50am
:: Mood: exhausted
:: Music: plus d'hiver - yann tiersen
i'm so tired of never sleeping
insomnia's so bad i almost broke down.
five days awake, and my eyes feel like they're going to bleed.
i'm having very small 5-7 minute narcoleptic fits, i suppose. i keep missing tiny chunks of my time, and its terribly annoying.
but i'm glad i have a friend,
who will sit with me through all of my fifth period,
skipping his class so he can make sure i get some sleep.
then taking me to get some pancakes after school,
because they are my ultimate cheering up food.
(:
technically,
i can use the term 'clinically insane' on myself,
since such sleep deprivation can lead to insanity or brain disorders.
in all seriousness though, i hope to sleep tonight,
because i'm going to the king tut exhibition tomorrow morning.
2 whispered |
sweet words
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rina
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2006 13 March :: 12.13am
:: Mood: amused
:: Music: set yourself on fire - stars
we might be hitting clearer skies
i shouldn't be here, she says,
from the bottom of her bed,
as he weaves their limbs together once more.
one. breathe. two. sigh. three.
the countdown has begun, she thinks,
but there's nothing left to see.
imagine our halves making a whole, he sighs,
the way wind meets water for stormy skies.
she always thought love was a supernova.
filtered sunshine, dust-light gleams,
half-covered in sheets with satin seams,
he holds her the way the ocean holds the shore,
says, love shouldn't be so sore!
but with skin meeting skin,
mingled against whispers of wonder,
she thinks this is how she should spend forever.
sweet words
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rina
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::
2006 12 March :: 11.47pm
:: Mood: frustrated
:: Music: he lied about death - stars
killers always have killers on their track
i am constantly setting myself up for failure.
i take on projects that are too much for me too handle simultaneously.
like i need to feel the stress of multiple deadlines on me every minute of every day.
i hate it.
sweet words
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rina
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::
2006 5 March :: 11.25pm
:: Mood: worried
:: Music: cold cold water - mirah
is it not enough to be complete
sex, drugs, self destruction,
you're becoming less and less like yourself,
and assembling into this misconstrued mess.
i'm sitting through headache and heartache,
and you're washed up, washed up, washed up,
wasted.
and there's nothing i can do.
me, you, we,
our plans were to leave.
but let's not get carried away.
sweet words
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