I love being able to tell where I have been, because of the marks that I have left.

On a brand new white laptop, you will find some ugly brown marks

Where the hands have landed, and the fingers have pressed

More than a million times, and no less.

On a brand new white laptop, you will see some pieces of goo

Where the tape has been removed, but the stick has not

and the pieces of dust collect.

On a brand new white laptop, you will see some things on the front.

A book mark for truth, and a sticker of a cartoon

All describing the owner's true loves.

On a brand new white laptop, you will see it contains more files.

It will bring you through the heart of the user

and carry you through her obsessesion.

You will find her true colors, and find her true loves

For writing and stalking funny pictures

you will find that there will be more to this owner

than just a smile and a hug.

On a brand new white laptop, you will find it is more like a friend

something that needed through the day,

something needed to keep you calm.

It is something that you can vent to and laugh at

And be social without really moving.

And if you look really closely,

you will notice that this brand new white laptop

is more like me and you.

It is created in a blank,

white as a sheet of paper,

Over time the pictures will be added

the homework will be finished

the friends will be facebooked

and the orders will be made.

There are things about this brand new white laptop

that you and I still don't know

but all it would take was a few days,

a little bit of patients

and maybe a manual

to finally figure out is true colors.

And even on this brand new white laptop

there will always be someone that is bringing it down

And judging it by the way that it looks.

and this will teach you something

something we need to realize

if we all took the time

and we all looked past the white exterior,

we could easily find the true potential,

hidden within its lids.

Somehow I have this weird sort of writers block.

I have no problem writing, I just can't write what I need to.

I hate these kinds of days.

He's really something else.

I guess you could say that he is the honey to my bee.

He is the sugar to my candy.

He is the stem to my flower

He is the swear to my outraged mother.

He is my everything to my nothing.

but with each day that crosses

And with each minute that is spared,

I wish to be with nothing more

Than the heart that beats within.

It's growing to a steady love

A bond of which, so strong

Its growing more than once planned

and it's something more amazing that once thought.

It's hard to figure,

And its hard to see

if you are not me.

but listen close,

And lend me your ear

For I have something to hear.

Our love is kind

our love is wise

our love could break open doors.

Our love is meek

our love is weird,

our love is one for the books.

Its hard to understand

and its hard to believe

that I have met my soul mate so soon

Our love is kind

and our love is rare

But its the one most search for.

I shall keep you close

and keep you safe

for with you I feel no less

And if for some reason some day

you choose you leave me here

i shall sit there where you left me

and wait for you to come back

I'll be sitting on the corner

and I'll be waiting for you

Because I know that some day,

we'll be back to where we started.

Each day grows new

and each day feels like we're new

There is nothing ever the same

and nothing ever boring

and your voice,

shall never be more calming.

It is 12:30 and you are tired

but I can't seem to find my sleep

It is 12:30 and you have asked me,

and I say "wait for me"

You want me to meet you

beyond the factors of dream

and there i shall meet you,

and hold you with love.

There I shall meet you,

in this pillows of my love.

Just so much

There are miles, upon miles of empty road way of which I mind has been craving to fill with stories, poems, essays, and just plan breath taking sentences that will stick with me for as long as I live.

But I can't seem to put my finger on how to say any of these things.

My mind is buzzing with so many words, so many feelings, so many emotions and stories that its grown to be something that is hard to comprehend. There is nothing that I would love to do more than to sit down and write all day, about every inch of thought that crawls into my head, so I can forever remember how I felt at the exact moment that I wrote it. I want to be able to write how I'm feeling, exactly when I feel it because when I do, I feel free. There is a part of me that finds its way to the top of a mountain that over looks a valley of which has never been seen before. There is a part of me that craves to have that weight lifted off of my shoulders, that needs to have to have that outlit.. then there's that side that just wants to forget it all. Just wants to forget everything so that when someone asked me what happened, I will be able to say that I don't remember, but all that I knew was that it happened..

There is a part of me that wants to let go of it all, and that part is stronger than the will to write.

Things Just Got Confusing.

It's a weird feeling.

It's almost as if everything that I have been taught in my life has been based on nothing but a lie.

Well maybe not a lie, but on a strong opinion from the eye of the bad guy.

I've never really thought that there was much about to the world than the opinion past my fathers, or at least, that's how I was brought up.

I was brought up to believe that there was probably nothing more to the world than there is in the small town that I live in, and I had grown accustomed to the repetitive day to day schedule that I had created.

Get up - 6:30

Eat breakfast -6:45

Walk to bathroom - 6:50

Start doing hair - 6:51

Done hair - 7:30

Get school bag - 7:31

Make bed - 7:33

Put on outdoor clothing - 7:34

Get into car - 7:35

Drive to school - 7:36

Arrive in school - 7:40

Walk to class - 7:41

Arrive at class - 7:45

Bell rings - 7:55

Hell begins - 8:00

Team time - 8:02

Block 1 - 8:30

block 2 - 9:50

Walk to block 3 - 11:12

Lunch - 11:15

Block 3 - 12:05

Block 4 - 1:24

Bell rings - 2:45

Get home - 3:00

Lay down in bed - 3:10

Eat dinner - 5:30

Take a shower - 8:30

Get out of shower - 8:40

Boyfriend calls - 9:00

Go to sleep - 10:00

Repeat.

I am like clock work.

And form this, there is not much of a change. On the weekends there are a few added things, what with the assortment of friends and family, as well as finding the time to be with my other half. There is not to much change, nor is there to much excitement in my life. Everything is planned out for me and I am destined to be whatever it is that I am supposed to be, and nothing is expected, more or less of me. I am at a dull mutual stance, and I am content with the life I live.

As well as bored.

I guess its hard for me to realize that things in my life will change and not according to plan. I wasn't prepared for this, and I was never taught the basic life skills that one needs to be able to survive in this hell hole of a world, and most of the time i blame this all on my father.

He has made the habit of cramping me up into a small hole and making sure that my brain gets no bigger, or smaller. That I do everything on que and on time at all times and to the exact inch of what he wants me to do. But this has created a barrier for me.

Some day I will walk into the first place that I call my own and not know how to do a thing. How to make a meal, how to do the laundry, how to make a bed right, how to vacuum, how to do anything with my life besides walking into the house and laying on my bed and waiting for everything to be done for me. As much as this sounds like some sort of paradise for most teenagers, I can't stand it. There is nothing that I want more from life than to know what I am doing with it. I don't want to know what it feels like to be in a place where I have no idea what to do, what needs to be done so I can survive.

I just.

I don't know how I'm going to survive when I'm on my own.

And I'm scared.

I'm here to say things that have been on my mind for a while, that I have been mustering up in the back of my head just waiting for the right time for them to come out and become the air that I breathe. But even now as I am sitting here and ready to say everything that I want, I can't seem to find the words..

I have said before that I have grown descenitized to the feeling of missing you - I lied.

I have not become descenitied because every time a love song comes on, my phone vibrates, or I look around my room, I find that pit in my stomach growing deeper and deeper. I say this because I need to be strong, but I can't be strong anymore.

I give a shit. I've given a shit. I've always given a shit.

I always will give a shit and I never want to say anything that will make you think that I ever stopped giving a shit.

and I'm sorry if you ever thought I did..

I found myself reaching off to the distance - I thought you were standing there.

I'm tired of being tough.. I want to cry because I miss you, and I want to smile because I love you. I want to fall to the ground with the pain of the distance, and I want to count the tears I shed missing your eyes.

I want to be back home in your eyes, and back in my bed that is your arms.

I grabbed onto your leather coat

"Please don't do this."

he looked away realizing the pain.

I clenched on with both hands.

The tear that was welling, fell.

"Please don't leave me."

He looked at me.

He saw the sorrow.

A tear fell.

His.

Then mine.

He looked away again.

Placed his bag in the back of his truck.

Beat up and dirty.

He shook me off.

"Please don't. Not now."

He looked at the car door.

Then at me.

My tear fell.

His were dry.

"Babe, no please."
He places his hand on the door handel.

He hesitated.

I sniffled.

Open.

Sit.

Shut.

Glance.

Key.

Turn.

Gas.

Falling to my knees.

I sobbed.

"Please!"

I screamed.

I watched him go.

No hesitation.

It was gone.

And even when he was gone, the dust had settled, and my tears were gone, I was still kneeling there and hoping that I would see the glow of his brake. Hear the tires coming closer. See his head lights in the distance. Feel his hands around my body. But he was gone; and even as I knew he wasn't going to turn back around, I would have been content with a flash of his break, or maybe even a slow down. But - he was gone.

And even hours later I was still kneeling in the on the gravel. I was still waiting. Hoping that somehow, somewhere, he would be regretting.

I've stood in the rain.

Once or twice.

I look outside the window.

Rain.

The rain fell.

Harder than before.

I crawled under my blanket.

hot chocolate.

Warmth.

Perfect.

...

Lonely.

My birthday is in 16 days and I still don't know what to do for it. I'm debating to have a sleep over with all of my really close friends or have a really big party with a bunch of my friends. The only problem that I can think of is Tim. He's not really the most social person in the world and I know for a fact that if I have a bunch of my friends over that he's going to be an awkward little butterfly and probably give me 17 million reasons why he can't come with me to celebrate my birthday, or basically just tell me that he would rather it be me and him to celebrate it. To bad he's gonna have to deal with it because he's coming to my birthday party, weither he likes it or not.

There is never a worse pain.

This is coming from a girl who hasn't talked to her boyfriend in 2 days and can't call her boyfriend since his mother isn't happy with you, and also, he's grounded so he only gets to call when his mom is out of the house.

Its a horrible way to live, and when I missed all 10 of his calls, I cried for 40 minutes straight doing nothing but trying to get in contact with him so I can hear his voice, the sweet serenity of his voice that keeps me calm.

I apologized more than enough times for missing his calls, I've never felt so bad for missing his calls but can you blame me? I haven't heard from him in days and when he finally calls, i'm to busy in the other room doing something else to answer the freaken phone. I still feel like crying. I've never felt more like dying than I did that night. Its a horrible feeling that i never want to experience again; so i'm keeping my phone on me at all times from now on, dead or not. If it's charing, then i'm sitting right by it. Never again will I miss another phone call from him. Never.