I'm not as heartless as I seem
A blow-up doll with self esteem
I cannot translate thought to sound
And I only watch the sky and ground

I will be there to lick your wounds
I'll sit outside the door to your room
introduce you to my good friend Doom
Or become the destruction
Since youd prefer soon

Be that moment in time
You both long for and dread
The conflicting voices
You hear in your head
The too-easy choices
That are easier said

I could be your muse
Or the morning news
Or what you so choose
And a chance to refuse
Or to practice abuse
For whatever holds you Together
To ravel loose
I could be the slipknot
                                        in your noose

some say it is because

but i insist it's not. once there was a girl named randi who inhabited this livejournal, and other places too.  she's pretty much not here anymore.  all these pictures and all these words are all some two or three worlds ago and now i'm unrecognizable and that i think is good.  maybe.  it would be nice if i had words to say, pictures to show you, ways to explain all my feelings toward the world. i know there are some out there that would like some answers.  i'm one of them, and other than to myself, i owe nothing. i'll be back when i have something to say.

i wish i could write something i believe
i wish i had a thought that i wouldn't have to fight for
i wish i could tell you something with meaning
if i could, i'd make it into pictures
if a pistol was the brush, and my brain and blood are paint and the canvas is the wall
i'm not sure i wouldn't keep the story to myself

i'm awful and unreal
and nothing in me can feel
anything at all

i'm pretty on the outside
that's all i tell myself
i'm ugly on the inside
a sacrifice i had to make
i'm poison in your birthday cake
i'm something sweet to the naked taste
but truthfully, my soul's misplaced
i gave it away
one fateful day
made a deal have it replaced

i opened my mouth and in crawled SHE
and inside she wrestled around with me
and eventually
i was pretty
and mean and i wanted to be
i enjoy causing pain
i enjoy bloody rain
fear the wrath of this sociopath




ha.  shit.  i just talked to zak.  it always makes me uncomfortable.  and i usually have no interest, but somehow i found myself challenged.  he told me he was married.
and now i'm suddenly talking to conrad.  for the first time in years.

i feel like the audience and the performer.  and i might not be doing a good job, but we're still amused.

raise your hand if you remember:

i feel like i'm trying to breathe underwater.  this calls for another cigarette.

("fucking cancer sticks.  you're slowly killing yourself."

"isn't that the point?"

"...is it?")

i feel like my life is either a scratched cd that keeps skipping and repeating-- stuck making an unintelligable screeching sound that just makes me want to throw it out the window-- or some fucked up non-talented deejay is attempting to mix a work of art and it ends up sounding like abstract elektrotrash wreckage.  again, making me want to destroy anything that is contributing.

people are only disappointing when you have expectations. 

do you lower your standards, and suffer, or sit alone, and suffer?
either leaves you bitter.

knuckles.  twig.
words dance on a screen, my fingers itch to write.  i'm just way too stoned to articulate anything i've been thinking about. 

i'm always dazed lately, sympathetic to everything around me.  i wonder what everything looks like and is from all the other angles in the room, all the cells and molecules; i wonder if i'm breathing the same air that was in the hospital room when i was born, was in the room when i lost my virginity.  how does the air react?  it bends and breaks around and in everything, touching all the surfaces

i'm preparing myself for the consequences of a bad decision i haven't yet made.

this is ridiculous.  looking at all the stupid patterns, i'm mad at myself and i'm mad at everything really.  nervous, confused, excited, angry. 

where is the happy?  hmmm?




i'll be around.  those of you who know or don't know where to find me.  i'll be here, in my head. 
i have numbers if you want to call.

i have too much free time, even working forty hours a week.

shannon's taking me to court.  so much for "fuck off." 

i like the human race less every time i slow shit down to think.

let's go get stoned.

we hold fast and steady
and won't let go til we're ready.


lies, lies, lies.

i don't know why i'm here anymore

maybe i'm not now
[all the things i wish i was]
but i will be
all the things i ever promised anyone i'd be.
i'm not there, or even here.
but i will be.

maybe now i'm nothing
but i'm starting to become a warm little idea
that fits nicely in your pocket.
i'm not going to lie, i'll never be anything neat like that.
at least for now you can keep me in your head.
sometime soon...
i hope to be enough to hold your hand.
to push your hair off your face.
to laugh and smile and cry and know we have a secret.

i won't always be not there or here;
and someday i'll be back from where i went.
i hope.  but at least i have hope.

i won't always be something that gives pleasure
and takes it away
and causes hollowness and pain.
i won't let myself.

i'm a fucking trainwreck.

i'm suffocating.



i broke up with him. and it's really weird, sitting at his house like this.
i wonder how he feels?

honestly, i hope he finds someone better.
if any of my exes deserve it (and they all do, after tolerating me), it's him.

there's no need for alarm;
i'm just in from the funny farm.
i'm not here to cause harm,
just disable and disarm.

is it bad, i like the pain?

choking me until i almost pass out...
grabbing, scratching, pulling, biting.

grabbing and twisting my wrist until it almost snaps.

there's no such thing as real-life anymore
the lines are blurred
there is no truth
i cannot fear the angry youth
in the corner bleeding on the floor

he has thread instead of eyelashes
stitched through the lid
sewed on tight
just in case the air will fight
its way out along with sight

we couldn't have him witness this



we couldn't have him witness.

Post anything that you want, and post it anonymously.
Anything.
A story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love - anything.
Be sure to post anonymously and honestly. Post twice if you'd like.
Then, put this in your LJ to see what your friends
(and perhaps others who you don't even realize read your LJ) have to say.

i really don't know anymore. i can't explain it, because eyes and ears are everywhere. unavoidable. just like me.
i want away.
a way out.

i'm not happy.
neither is he.
neither is she.
neither is anyone else.

mom's dying.
so am i.

we sing
we scream
we hold hands and we dream



i miss her.