....wow.

hey boy, yeah you;
I hope you`re not here to harm me
see sometimes, you`re charming
sometimes, you`re alarming...
made to disarm me, but I can`t let you.

not letting you get next to me is hard; you try, and effort counts in my book.
not reprimanding myself for trusting you is hard; known alot of people like you...with hidden motives.
not ignoring you when you call me is hard; one night, alone it was like 6 times...=/.
not forcing you away from picking my brain is hard, it`s a dark and scary place in there & I`m not too sure you`re ready.
not blaming you for the circumstance you`ve put me is hard; it`s your fault.
not rolling my eyes when you lie to me is hard; you tell little white lies that irk the hell out of me. not hanging up when you say my name too many times is hard; annoying...stop it.
not fleeing when you say "I love you," is hard; because it never feels completely platonic when you say it.

so i let you...probably shouldn`t but, yeah.

I'm so tired of feeling that I don't deserve some one special. I do, 17 years too late I realize that I do deserved to feel cared about and loved. Why am I still single? Besides the fact that I may not be a supermodel, because people I know - and I'm not saying this to be mean in any way - are not that damn attractive eiether and they still have something that I don't. Love. Not friend love, of that I have enough. Not family love. I have just what I need of that. But something different and stronger than all of that combined. Everytime I call myself liking someone in that different way I ALWAYS get hurt. They don't feel the same. They don't feel anything at all. They do feel the same, but for somebody else. There's this guy at school, and I swear he likes me. It's the little things. But he's shorter than me, and it frustrates me that I don't give everyone a chance. It frustrates me that I'm shallow...not much, but enough to make me feel like I'll never find the the type of guy I'm looking for. Never find one that's interested in me. My bestfriend Kyrea says that I'm too awesome to be with someone right now. I hope not that much, because I want a guy that I can call my own & that will accept me for who I am. And not hurt me. Or make me cry. Spent 7 years crying, and I refuse to shed another tear over another boy that could give a less fuck about me. This one guy has been being really nice to me...but I keep my guard up. I spend nights just sitting up asking myself what could he possibly want from me? I don't trust people with my heart that don't earn it. I hate being this way, but it's how I keep myself from getting hurt. That's how I make sure the people in my circle are in it for the long run. I'm tired of feeling alone, no matter how many people love me. This other guy, I have a horrible crush on him. Just thinking about him right now sends my imagination on a journey. But we're so incompatible from my point of view. He's all I want and I'm all he doesn't. When he's around, my vocal cords completely stop working. But he doesn't like me, nor does he known I exist so it's stupid to let my delusions of grandure continue, right? Try telling my brain that. I'm so confused and it's killing me to not know which way I wanna go on all those situations. I'll take my own advice; let it play out and just hope for the best...

FEAR.

fear. 09.08.09

"And I be gettin' high, just to balance out my lows..." He let his muscles relax and slowly blew streams of smoke. Sat back in his room, eyes darting around at everything before closing and momentarily taking him to another place. Far away from where he was. His problems. His insecurities. His fears. Somewhere he felt safe, by himself, with his thoughts. Inhaled some more, letting his joint burn and cloud the bedroom with peace. With his escape. His mother doesn't like when he lights up in her house, but lately she's grown to expect it. Anything to keep him from moping, from breaking things, even if only for a little while. Intoxicated, he thought about his girlfriend. Her words, "You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can't push me away. I'll be here always to help you..." Never felt he needed her help. Too proud, is what his mother would say, just like your father...afraid. He knows his girlfriend doesn't believe when he says he's alright. Apprieciates her for that. The only one in a long time that can read him like a book. She's not what he's afraid of. Pushes her away sometimes, but losing her is one constant fear on his mind. Where exactly would he be without her? He frowns at the thought. Couldn't be much worse, not possible, he thinks. He takes another pull. "She's the only one that cares," he says out loud, but no one is there to hear him but himself. Paranoia from the past laced around his fears...She hasn't given him a reason to be wary of her. Another fear, lonliness. The mere thought of him being by himself kills his buzz but after a couple more drags, the calm ensues. Memories flood back, some good, some bad of his past best friend and his ex. How they ran off together, how she died before he could get some closure. Never told her how she hurt him. Bad feelings rose in his throat, took the form of bile. Inhale. A reason not to trust anyone, no matter how things seem at first. Fear. Enough to make him crave a higher calm. Took more of the smoke into his lungs. Exhale. His door opens and for a minute, he thinks he's dreaming. Until she smiles and says his name. His girlfriend comes in, closes the door and locks it. He watches as she climbs up his bed, over him and kisses him. Another high. Enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He knows what he feels for her is deeper than he felt for anyone. Can tell by that rush of her presence. But he refuses to call it what it is. Love. His ultimate fear. Amazing how you want something you've been taught to fear. And hate. And avoid. He kisses her again, cutting off his train of thought while putting his joint in an ashtray on his endtable. With passion. Passion that makes both pairs of hands wander. Passion that makes their clothes slowly melt away. He feels the temperature slightly increase in his room at the sight of her naked body. He praises flesh. Makes her moan, holds her face while she shudders and his fingers slide into her. Thumb strumming her clit, making her sing a familiar tune. Not their first time, but more physically connected. Brings her close to ecstacy with his fingers. In and out, he watches her body slowly become erratic, erotic, watches her back arch before stopping. She smiles, pecking his lips as he pulls away. She likes the tease. He rolls over, and watches as she straddles his hips, braces herself by grabbing his hands and slides down on him. He groans as he enters her. She moans softly, letting her head fall, her hair tickling her back. Feeling her warmth and her heat always takes him higher than the weed, than anything. Even music. His eyes slowly close, and still he sees her behind his eyelids. He welcomes her in any form, gripping her ass as she began to go faster. Listened to her breathing go from slightly controlled to shallow and irregular. His is that way, too. Grabs her hips, groans throatilly at their rotation and raises his hips, sliding in further, desperate to go deeper. Eager to please her. Felt her nails dig into his arms, watched her make the most beautiful frown he'd ever seen. Held her face gently, moaning as her thick thighs trembled. He drowned in her love, smudging away tears that rolled down her timeless features as she was immersed herself in a drug-enduced orgasm. Strong, persistant, unrelenting. She never cried before. It scared him, the intensity, but it excited him to watch her experiance the sweetest convulsions known to man. She didn't stop, egging him to the edge of their world and sending him on a trip further than any high would ever take him. Made him grip his own sheets, spill his liquid love as she slowed down her movements. Kissed on him as he slowly descended. He opened his eyes, smiled as she glowed. He loved making her do that. Sat up and put his hands on her hips, nonverbally telling her to stay as is. She kissed him, speaking the truth against his lips. His hand wandered between her legs, rubbing her clit with his thumb, making her shudder and softly speak, "I love you." A fear that constantly held him back from life, and even himself. He replied, "I love you too." Despite the pleasure he was giving her, her eyes widened and stared into his. Put his finger to her lips, to which she responded by sucking on. He bit his bottom lip. "I do. And we'll work out all my problems & shit. But please, don't be scared of me..." By the way she kissed him, he knew love wasn't anything he needed to be afraid of.

---

cried writing this. loosely based from the song Fear, by Drake.

go shawty;

IT`S MY BIRTHDAY!

the greatest romance ever sold.

chapter one.

It’s been five days since he’s been gone, and I find myself reverting back into who I used to be without him. Only problem is, I don’t like who I am without him. When he’s around, I feel invincible no matter what the truth is. He’s not here, and I understand that I’m vulnerable. He’s told me not to worry about it and I shouldn’t but its hard not to. He told me, "Everytime you think about me, write me a letter. Keep writing, till every thought you have about me is on the paper in front of you & then seal it in an envelope. I’ll read them when I get back, all of them, I promise..." and kissed my forehead. I’m on the seventh letter. I’m just here, alone, pensive, but we both knew one day this would happen. He’d blow up, get global, go off on tour where every girl loves him & screams for him, at him and the other guys, while I’m holding him down here, losing my mind and the little bit of patience I have left day after day. Out of the millions of people loving him now, all their love will never compare to just one day of mine, he said. Watching him on concert has brought me closer into reality, so I’m starting to disagree. I’d like to think he believes what he says. I know if he didn’t, we’d both be in the same problem instead of just me. I like to think he understands what’s happening right now, that it`s not just my parents that think we shouldn’t be as close as we are, now the whole world agrees. I sit in my room while Chelsea goes out and represents for the both of us, and listen to music hoping that his voice doesn’t come up on my iPod’s shuffle. It would only send me into a fit of unwanted tears. I’m tired of crying. Twin says, "Cheer the fuck up...he’ll be back and then you guys can be again." I tell Chels that it’s not gonna be simple like that anymore. She gets asked the same questions by our friends everyday, “Is Bee okay?”, “How’s she holding up?”, or my personal favorite, “Still haven’t came out of her room yet?” It’s not that easy to bounce back from feelings like these. We talk almost every day, he texts me, I text back, he IMs me, I hit back, he calls me & we talk until his voice lulls me into sleep I haven’t been getting. Am I selfish, because it’s not enough?

chapter two.

I think it’d be best for me not to tell him how much I’ve been crying. Maybe, it’s not something he needs to know. Not something anyone needs to tell him while he tries to get in the zone for another concert, especially somebody that he cares about so much. When we’re on the phone, I sound happy about everything, but knowing him, he knows the truth. If he does, he never says anything. He can tell everything about me. Yesterday, he called me while I was in the middle of crying. I couldn’t not answer and worry him, so I just sniffled and answered the phone. First thing he said, after our “hello’s” and “how are you’s” was, “Stop crying….you sound congested.” I can look at him, and he knows how I feel & I don’t have to say it. Silent understanding. I can say one thing, and he knows that it means another. It’s maddening not having around the one person who knows you like you know yourself. My solace. Usually, at night he stays over with me at least until I go to sleep. I suffer from reoccurring nightmares. We talk absentmindedly, but if it gets too quiet for too long, I snuggle up to him with my head on his chest, and then I’m out like a light. I think that’s why he calls me at night, to give me some comfort. I don’t tell him that it usually never works, and sometimes I have to pretend that I’m sleepy just so he can hang up the phone with me and go to sleep himself. I don’t want him to be tired trying to please me. It wouldn’t be fair to do that, even if he is my best friend and wants to. Sleep is pretty much pointless for me without someone else’s body heat. My parents don’t approve of us being best friends at all, but ultimately this is my life. I’ve chosen to ignore them, not rebelling, but for their reasons against us. They say, “Why you always around that boy? What is it that he does for you that your sister, your dad and I can’t give?” and I always think to reply, he loves me & understands me on a level that nobody has been to but him. He’s not family, so his love is different from family love. But they don’t think we know what that type of love is…they also don’t feel there’s anything that drastic about me for him to be the only one who understands. Yeah, they’re also full of shit. When I get tired of not sleeping, Chelsea lets me sleep with her. It’s comforting, but sometimes I feel that I burden people with my problems. He says I should get out of that habit, because he’ll always be there to listen. Bad habits are hard to break. But I like to think I’ll always have somebody there to listen, and hold. I like to think he’ll come through for me, no matter how far away he gets. He says, “I ain’t let you down yet, right Bee?” and I smile at the tone of his voice, ‘cause we both know he won’t.

chapter three.

Right now, I’m sealing letter nine. I don’t think I can go on like this. My nightmares are getting gorier, more realistic, and that only happens when I’m keeping something from him. I don’t wanna confess to something I’m not sure of. Last night, he didn’t get to call me, but he text me before then. I didn’t feel like sleeping last night. I couldn’t sleep; my mind was so busy with memories. I like to think that he can’t sleep very well without me either, just so that I know he’s feeling the same. Today, my Mac Book Pro came in the mail and I’m excited. Now we can iChat. My mother sensed my happiness and immediately made it bitter sweet. “Brandy, I don’t understand why that boy is so important to you.” It’s becoming hard to bite my tongue. She continued. “He ate, slept and breathed you. Used to be over here at all times of the night comforting you. I think he’s just feeding your abundant, unhealthy need for attention.” Abundant, unhealthy need for attention? If you would’ve provided me with, I wouldn’t have had to get it elsewhere. So, since I found someone willing to fill a void in my life, you call it unhealthy? This woman needs therapy. See, this is why I don’t come out of my room. She continues to pick at a wound I’m trying to heal. “I think this time apart is good. Maybe you two’ll see how much you don’t need eachother.” Pushed the wrong button. I said, “That’s exactly why. You don’t try to understand. You jump to conclusions. I don’t have to worry about being analyzed around him, unless I want to. Or told what to do. Or ignored. Or brushed off. I don’t need you to do this right now, because I don’t want to have to heart your feelings” and with that, I took my laptop upstairs. I’m mad that people are not trying to understand how hard this is for us. All my life, the only people who truly have an understanding of me have been my twin and my best friend. Chelsea’s with her boyfriend most of the time, happy, and I don’t wanna fuck that up with my problems. It`s bad enough we share the same soul and brain, so whether she wants to or not, she’ll always feel a little bit of what I feel. I wish everybody would just accept that some friendships will never die. I’m tired of having to constantly prove ourselves. No alternative motives. People are constantly trying to bring us down. Maybe that’s why I haven’t completely gone crazy. We are not a lost cause. No matter how far away or how many nights I cry, it still won’t be enough to give up. Even if he can’t be with me at night. I can’t just quit on him, because I’d like to think he needs me. Now, more than ever, so close to his dreams. And I need him just as much…

chapter four.

two years later.

I still remember the way he smelled when I pushed my face into his chest, how he felt with his arms around me, and how much hurt I felt when he told me he found a girlfriend. I felt like I was pushed into this glass box, trapped. Like my heart had been cut off from blood. My lungs had been stripped from air. I still remember…It’d been a while since we talked, weeks and I was excited because I felt so much better about everything. That day, I read my letters and frowned at how clingy they sounded. So I burned them. All of them, while I danced to music and washed my clothes. Yes, I`d even come out of my room several times before that night. Everybody was gone, Chelsea was on a date, and my parents were too. Yes, I was even getting along with my family. In a span of two weeks, I’d went out six times, started exercising every morning, picked up my slack on the chores, started some early college courses and cut my bangs asymmetrical. There was something I didn’t want to admit to myself, but soon it’d become inevitable. He buzzed my iChat around eleven. I leaned over into the camera view, to accept and smiled the biggest he’d seen me smile in months. He smiled back, but started acting oddly while we were talking. A couple minutes, I found out why. Her name was Karlena. He met her in ATL while they were layin’ some tracks down, and she was around to give him the attention he needed as a man for a couple months. Told me how much he liked her, but something about it seemed so wrong. How could she get the one I thought God made for me? The rest of the conversation was a blur. He told me that he loved me, and I said it back. That was the first night of many that I questioned my feelings. Months turned into years, and this wedge formed between us. Especially when she revealed some of her true colors and he was too blind to see it. “You don’t even fuckin’ know her! How you know she’s cheatin’ on me?” “Read between the lines! She’s playing you…like a drum at band practice.” “What-the-fuck-ever, don’t wanna have this conversation no more.” So in love, that he was treating me like one of the evil children of Cinderella’s aunt. Fighting became frequent, monotonous. The second year rolled by, we weren’t even on speaking terms anymore because of something he said to me the last night we spoke; “I’ve been there for you all your life, you expect me to just be yours forever?” Tears stung my eyes. “Because that’s what you told me, you promised me that! It’s not like I imagined that shit happening. And me being a stupid, weak little girl, I believed you huh?” “Well, I was young and dumb back then. Besides, we’re best friends. You’re supposed to be happy for me!” So he thought him and I together was dumb now? “How am I supposed to be happy for you if I know you’re making a MISTAKE?” “MISTAKE, Karlena’s the best thing that ever happened to me, -” Chris used to call me that. “and I knew you was gonna do this, with your selfish ass. You just like all the others…” After he had the audacity to call me selfish, there was no reason for me to continue letting him take his frustration out on me trying to salvage our friendship. The inevitability of it was that he was too weak compared to fame. It went to his head, and he forgot all about the people who helped him get there. Change happened in both of us. He was full blown famous by then, on TV, the radio, on shirts, it would infuriate me and I’d just tune it all out. Even now it still hurts to think about, I lost my best friend and proved everyone right who doubted us. By then, Chelsea and I were just starting college in San Francisco, her with an intern job as a photographer and me with mine as a graphic designer. We moved into our dorm, I had one thing to say as I just got a new number and made a new iChat account. Fuck him and his bitch.

When I get back, I`m posting chapters one through four of the story I started on here.

it`s called, "The Greatest Romance Ever Sold."

[ finally figured out a title, lol. ]

so, I`m into percussion...

because, like I said, I march to my own drum. excuse me while I get my fresh, haha.