?

Log in

No account? Create an account
emotional's Journal [entries|friends|calendar]
emotional

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[11 Jan 2007|05:06pm]

self_idenity
i think one of the leading issues to most problems faced by adolescents(and maybe even young adults) is that...we havent found ourselves, we haven't accepted ourselves and we're lookign for acceptance elsewhere

i know probably EVERYONE in this community is going through this right now, even me, maybe you noticed it, maybe you don't
but i know that letting it out, and talking about it is good...it might not solve any of your big issues but it does feel good to know that there are otheres like you, that your not alone, and that venting feels good

i've made a community for the discussion of idenity crises, and i hope those interested will give me their views on it
its not a "community" community, more like....just a place to talk about identity crises

i'm sorry if this is considered as promoting, if you let me know i'll delete this or follow the proper procedures etc


the community:
cracked_idenity
1 - whisper

[29 Jul 2006|03:55am]

yrdiscodisco
my ex and I seemed to fit so well physically.
kissing was never akward, neither was sleeping together.
we did that so well, I guess when it all boiled down to it - I thought he was there for me more than that, but I was wrong.
He gave up on us..
now he's hanging around some 16 year old...

and I'm with someone new.
and I don't always feel very comfortable in my skin.
he doesn't talk enough.
and it really bugs me. to not know what he's thinking about..
I need some affirmation.
because I don't want another broken heart...
actually, I'm pretty sure mines still broken, and I'm just ... keepin' on with the truckin'.. for lifes sake.
it's not that I don't like mr. new.
I really really do.. he's a great person.

he told me once he worries whether he'll be able to make me happy.
I told him only I can make me happy.
but I wish things would get better..
I can't relax around him often times.

but I need some sleep..
so goodnight all.
1 - whisper

Community [02 May 2006|02:35am]

flamegirl_kitty
[ mood | tired ]

While reading this community, I noticed that there are many loving and caring people who have been hurt badly in so many different ways. There are many ways that help is available, and I'm hoping that my community can ease some of your demons.

It doesn't say in the userinfo page that I cannot do this, so here I go and I am terribly sorry if this offends anyone. And if it does, the mod can delete this entry immediately.

I created a community a while ago called
</a></font></strong></a>attemptfailed: for people who have attempted suicide. It is not a pro- suicide community, but it is one for people to tell their story, get advice, find people to relate to, etc. There is much more about it in the userinfo page, but I thought I'd give a little introduction to the community in case anyone out there is interested.

Take care everyone.

- whisper

[20 Nov 2005|01:38am]

mlleraquel
I get that some people look at me and think "I want her as a friend, nothing more, cause if that doesn't work there's no friendship left" and all that sort of deal. I get it. But why, pray tell, do people tell me that they were interested in me last year but they decided it wouldn't work out and they would rather have the friendship... a year after the fact? Excuse me while I throw things about in frustration.

"People that hide away like you do, I dunno. I want to see what's worth hiding."

Why don't people think that other than him, and he's a guy that I wouldn't date for several reasons, the main one being the fact that he has a girlfriend. But why can't other people look at me and think "I want to see what's worth all that." Why can't other people look at me, for crying out loud? I mean, yeah, there are the select few people that will actually tell me that I look nice. But you know what? A lot of them are girls, whom I love to death because they make me feel good about myself, and the guys... well, really, what do all guys look at? I am completely aware that any guy that tells me that I'm cute or something has made that decision based on my boobs. I have them, they aren't all that horrible looking, whatever. Don't even get me started on the fact that I don't understand what's so attractive about them.

I want something tangible. I'm sick of this. I'm alright with being friends with all these people but all I want is just one person to look at me differently, to make me feel special, to want to be more than just a friend. I get that it doesn't work that way, because I'm me and obviously that's just not the way the world works. The longer I go on like this the more it hurts. What is it about me that does this? Why don't people want to be with me? Is there honestly something so horrible and repulsive that I'm just not seeing in myself?
1 - whisper

[27 Aug 2005|09:46am]

beautiyful_gyrl
[ mood | content ]

Hello…Warning…Friends Only Banner Contains Nudity…Collapse )

- whisper

[04 Jul 2005|04:32pm]

hellokitty5363
I've made a new account so that my friends don't read my posts in other communities. My new Lj name is StompOnMyParade. I'll be re-joining this community if I can.

X-posted
- whisper

[24 Apr 2005|07:43pm]
magisterdark
[ mood | crappy ]

The mirror Doesnt Lie
Imperfection is all I see
And every day I try
to make myself so perfect
But it keeps getting worse
Punch the mirror
And break my face
Look at me,
such a FUCKING disgrace

</3

1 - whisper

[03 Apr 2005|06:45am]
buirbe
[ mood | me ]

Everyone is not created equal. Everyone cannot accomplish anything. Genetics and class and timing determine almost EVERYTHING.

But cruel twists of fate and stroked luck dance merrily along. Swim with your father's sperm. And in your neighbor's water bed. They lock hands during red rover. And drop from clouds after hiding umbrellas.

We are not the same. We cannot move mountains. Birth and Rite and Dress code determine almost everything.

But Iago's unmitigated wrath and Mary's window watching faith stroll through pavement and onto bedroom bed covers. They fill early morning key holes and breathe between hugs. between arms. tween eyes and lashes and hearts. lone tweeners and lone hugs and lone arms eyes lashes and hearts.

They tussle hair and milk heavy handed heart attacks. And they make love on backstairs. And they quarell down schoolroom halls. Throwing tantrums while dropping books, turning backs while crying selfishly.

They slip into forgotten wall ceiling sealant cracks. They stab at dolphin's waves. And Glint Vikings' eyes. They light your way toward Mordor.

You are not the same. You cannot do as they do. Nature and Stance and First Mother's Moments determine almost everything.

But cruel twists of fate and stroked luck also dance merrily along. Beside you. So you may as well try. You. May. As. Well. Try.

Dumb, poor and ugly sometimes [call] catch [snort] birth [shit] cum oddly loaded dice. And become president.

1 - whisper

Fuck [23 Mar 2005|03:23am]
buirbe
[ mood | Pissed Off ]

Where the fuck have I gone? Where the fuck fuck fuck have I gone? I'm gone. I am so gone. So lost, wondering burning my palms feet on searing sand. Fuck. Fuck. Lost. Forever. Fuck me.

- whisper

[30 Jan 2005|05:37am]

shadowycorner
I was surprised that there is a community like this and am happy about it. I am a very emotional person and people around can't understand or they just ignore it. It's killing me. I don't have such a bad life, but I feel so trapped. I don't know. My world is so boring for me, I can't breath sometimes. I feel out of place everywhere I go. I just want to belong somewhere and don't know where. I learned to shut down my emotions so others wouldn't see it because they're too harsh on me when I especially need their help. They don't get me. Sometimes I feel so, so alone. On the outside I'm a normal happy person, but in the inside I am screaming. Wow, this is the first time in a while that I talked so openly about my feelings.
- whisper

[06 Dec 2004|02:26am]
buirbe
I feel so alone. This weekend I talked, visited, chatted. I did crossword puzzles with my grandmother, went on early morning airport runs with Danny, played with the cousins, hauled groceries, used up roaming minutes keeping everyone connected and listened to my mom. Then I came home and listened to my boyfriend. (After coming home and talking to my sister, talking to my Dad, picking up groceries for Mom, listening to Jeremiah's plans.) Who is in a hard place. A very hard place. But now I want someone to want to take care of me. I want someone to hold me. I want someone to get up and get tissue for me. And rub my back. And tell me they love me. And be silent for me. Until I fall asleep. Not until they do. But until I do. Until I am completely taken care of for the night. I want someone to sacrifice a little for my sake. To not mind.

And then it occurred to me-what if my mother dies? What if those who need me wander off and find others to fill their desires and no longer need me at all? Then I will be completely alone. I guess I have given up on the idea that someone will want to be with me just to be with me. Because they love me independently of their own immediate wants, because seeing me happy makes them happy. I have given up on this. So now all I am left is relationships where I fill in the cracks of other peoples lives. And as soon as they realize they don't mind the cracks, or perhaps that others poor concrete more smoothly than I, I will be completely alone.

Why couldn't you just hold me and listen? Why couldn't you just ask me how my weekend was? Why couldn't you hold me and let me rant and not care why I might be mad at you or why I had treated you a certain way? Why couldn't you just breathe and be secure and be patient with me? I am just a small soul. A small delicate soul with little left to hold my body up. Sometimes that body just collapses and you can't ever help face down while falling asleep.

I don't know how I feel about love. I don't know how I feel about it when also feeling like this. It's hard to know where one emotion ends and another begins, or from which direction they originated. It seems much easier to die old and singular, curled up in a corner somewhere, uncared for and blatantly unnoticed by anyone. At least then you'll know positively that you are alone, instead of just guessing at it.
1 - whisper

[12 Nov 2004|12:27am]
buirbe
He admitted feelings, I turned his with mine. And then we poured them out sloppily, firmly into a defined space, cement with a look, dried over with a kiss. An immovable, unavoidable, solid ground we've been traversing frequently [grabs and hugs and pokes, fingers and tongues and afternoon cums] ever since. So, sex five times in two days, first time condom expenditures, no time for questions, for fear. And happiness. An already familiar, yet scary new ground. Unmarked by childhood hands, mischievous finger written names. Missing environmental leave, rain, stray footprint evidence. Just walk. Fresh and gray and ugly. (too new to be nicked.) Unexamined, taken for granted plaster jungle, tickled through every phrase, tongue whisper side skin raspberry eating, walking, holding jacket lapel moment.

I like him. A lot. I think. Maybe even more. Maybe even more if 'we' weren't so accessible. But we are. And we will be. And we can't help being.

And that may good. If it's not terrifying. No time. For thought. While strolling. Down. Newly laid. Sidewalk slabs. [a tightrope high heeled horses gallop no net waltz kissing ballroom fancy to byron's lost thumb]

Don't look down.
- whisper

[04 Nov 2004|05:38pm]

susanabanana
sorry if off topic but come and join the___elite a truly different rating community!

sorry if not allowed!
- whisper

And another thing... [03 Oct 2004|03:59am]

buirbe
[ mood | murdered, senselessly ]

I am awesome. Yes. Not stupid. Not stupid. Never never ever stupid. Smart. Yes. Smart. And beautiful and graceful and tipsy topsy stark, nice and good and courteous in a way which extends past upbringing. I know people. I can read people. I empathize. I am that women from the Stark Trek episode that reads and understands and does what makes you happy and comfortable and most you without being asked. And I watch Star Trek. And I read Tolstay. Drink peppermint tea and makers mark and chain smoke on street corners with the familiarity of one conceived in the womb of CTA stops. My hair is pretty and my voice soothes and my bones bend with the stars.

I wish I knew this. I wish I could know this. Why doesn't he like me? Why doesn't he love me? Why do they all scare me so very much.? The funny and the lanky and the mod. The tall and the loud and the happy. Round pipe cleaners meeting oh so precariously for red kisses, screaming clever vernacular, chuckling deep sensitive chuckles, under nose and umbrella shadows and eyebrows you would cry to raise. How they hurt. How they all hurt. With their tongues and shoulders and touch and go generational love.

And another thing-I want my memory back. I want my childhood back. I wish. I wish she hadn't touched me. I wish he hadn't hit me. And they hadn't hurt me. Childhood. I wish they had let me be a child.

senselessly

- whisper

[28 Sep 2004|12:45am]

buirbe
[ mood | c-o-l-d ]

It's Ryan's last night in the States. I want to go to bed, but I need to go have a drink with him instead. I need to clean my apartment. I am moving tomorrow. I saw a dead man on friday. My front door is unlocked.

I got a hair cut. I want a hug and a kiss and then a hug. Arms, lips, longer arms. Hold me till I fall asleep please. Caress newly cut bangs, pull at my left ear and prod me 'till I share my thoughts.

I saw a dead man on friday. I saw his brains. I smelled death. I think. I can't really remember. My pride and need to walk, work, eat and shit get in the way of past reality. But it's true. It happened. He was dark. And bent. And young. And empty. Oh, god. A body I was suddenly afraid of, or cold toward, or frozen against. Frozen from moving, from helping, from caring. Bent into something I've never seen, apart from the grass he was ground into. Afloat

I am a bad person.

- whisper

I am not going to spell check (notgoingto notgoingto notgoingto) do wop do wop [21 Sep 2004|01:26am]
buirbe
[ mood | havetogotothebathroom seriosly ]

Mort is ridiculous. "Ridiculous awesome. Yah. God-stakes." I am drinking Busch beer. "Born of Natural Ingrediants-Smooth, Refreshing Beer." Yah. Hi as a kite on a Saturday night. Smothered in purple green bracelets. Paying to see what the sidewalk can be. Smothered in cowboy shirt coffee street stains. Yah

Busch beer. A naturally born inrediant that is smooth refreshing and is beer. Definetly beer. Yah. Yah. "Do you have heatlh insurance Andy? Health insurance?" "No." "Come on now, let's qualify that: hell no." "Health insurance is for people who live long."

I find narled woven loud spireling wrist bracelets to be inspiring. And strumming strings. And tall brunettes with lanky arms and too short man pants. Quiet murmerings of mother like women whispers, babies strolling through jungled cement on smooth smooth super wheels of steel. And the feeling the knowledge the feeling of becoming my ultimate. My insane. My never before seen, always known, grey hair of a genius walking the earth and brilliant with who and where and how they have been.

I'm not part of the club. Every new club, every new living room club reminds me that I am not a fucking member. Too much. Too much information and backstory, childhood friends walking through time to create memory and knowledge. Don't fucking have it. Just do not fucking have it.

My father used to hit me and I dealt with it by erasing memories I don't know I've ever really had. Sometimes my memory is still like calling the CTA for 'travel time' information. "Where's you destination?" Fuck you. Destination. "Where's your destination?" And they tell you to take the 146 to the 151 to Union Station and you listen and you wait and you call back to realize that they were telling you to go North to go South to catch a non-express bus a million miles away. And that the 146 stopped running south at "6:26 pm." Great. Fucking awesome. Cool Cool Coolio. Come on, people. Don't you ever take the GD bus? Sometimes that's what my memory is like.

James is curled up on his bed, arms wrapped as if cradling himself, knees bent, sliver of white sock showing, comforter completely wrapped around his head. Andy's around, being backwards hat adorable. Mort's around, being white t shirt aawe-some. And I have to go to the bathroom. Yah Yah

Stakes. Stakes have motherfucking rolled.

- whisper

new//promo to my community! everyone join! [25 Jul 2004|11:18am]

renaissance_x
Full Promotion Under the Cut:
Please join, _2fxcking_emoCollapse )
1 - whisper

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]