The darkness often consumes me and very rarely am I able to see a way out. The brightness at the end is almost always out of my reach, and all I have is the sounds of what could be, pulling me closer. I feel at ease in this blackness but cannot cope with the silence. It’s the hollow emptiness that frightens me most. The cold is only a reminder of how exposed I am and the small bumps appearing on my skin are only reminders of that weakness. I scream just to hear myself, but even that doesn’t comfort me. The echo just reminds me that I’m alone in this never ending darkness.

It’s been a long time since any holiday has felt special, and Christmas was no exception. However, with all of the unfortunate situations currently in my life, I feel blessed this holiday season. Though I did not wake up to family and presents, I did wake up. I realized that the best gift I could expect was that I’m still here and I’ve done a lot this year to be happy about. I cannot dwell on all the negativity, or happiness will never find it’s way to me. I am so amazed I the experiences I have had, and to finding out how to be happy in the most basic of ways. True friends have come into the light, while others receded into the shadows where they belong. This Christmas was dim, and at times the only light I could see were the fabricated ones people draped over their roofs and outside their windows.

I am looking forward to this New Year. I am trying to go into 2009 with a better attitude about life. I am going to appreciate the things I do have and try not to worry about the things I cannot obtain. More to come in ‘09!

Today, I had multiple mini-breakdowns. I blame my lack of consistent sleep, but other factors were involved. For some reason, something as simple as not having work clothes triggered a quick cry. I think it was more about the fact that I do not want to go to work today at all. I was a zombie for exactly 4 hours. I need some adhesive for these cuts I keep getting… mentally. I’m all fractured and feeble, a few more breaks and I’m going to fall into pieces.

My nerves were more excited than I had the strength to express last night. It’s hard to explain but being at Gallery 1988 for Pete and Travis’ “Without You I’m Just Me” exhibit opening was like a heavy dose of caffeine to my heart and brain. I was really blown away by it all; the art itself and the ambience. I was actually too stoked when I spoke to Travis. I hate to admit that I love him, and when I see him I revert back to that “OMG Travie is hot” fangirl. Luckily I don’t show it. He’s super chill and I appreciated him knowing who I was and acknowledging my presence. [Sarcasm]‘Cause that doesn’t sound weird at all.[/sarcasm] I would’ve loved to formally meet Pete, but him signing my book in a rush and making more than a second of eye-contact was enough. I’m glad it was such a special occasion for two of my favorite guys.

As for me, I just feel inspired. I fell asleep with a single thought in my mind; about how blessed those two are to be able to do the things they love most every day. All the better, that they’re succesful in it and can provide and sustain a comfortable life. I’m sure comparing my life to theirs is another trigger for a breakdown. I’m not jealous, because I am glad they exist and do what they do; but I can’t help but to feel “less” in comparison.

I’m in a mellow-dramatic mood right now. I just have the most random, but powerful urge to fix my guitar strings and give it a go. I want to draw those images I’ve been imagining would look great on a t-shirt. I really want that tattoo and that piercing. More than anything, I want someone to do this laundry, buy some food and clean the bedroom. I plan to do neither, and with that I bid farewell.

I am clouded my own insecurities; but it’s that lack of clarity that protects me. This thick cover keeps me inpenetrable. Like a fortress, no one can be let in, only I can chose when to come out of the isolation. I feel like that princess trapped in the highest tower of the farthest castle, with moats and dragons blocking the path. Except, in this case, I am not waiting for a prince. I am waiting for the dragon to give up on trying to scare me and waiting for the heat to evaporate the moat, and I am just going to waltz out. When I finally step outside of my prison I’ll be stronger and better for having been there.

Sorry I am too fat and too black to fit in your “scene;” my bad for not looking the part. I apologize for liking your favorite band, knowing all the words, and singing just a bit louder than you. Sorry for being a “bandwagon” fan; my fault for being late on discovering them. I apologize for taking pictures with them, especially talking with them after shows.

Get over yourself. Stop looking at me dirty when you see me in line at shows. Don’t assume I’m just a tag-along; I love this music too. Stop being so surprised when I’m wearing a “Super The Maine That Ohhh!” T-shirt. Don’t shit yourself when you see me talking to boys in bands… their just people who play instruments.

I am not a poser, I am not trying to fit into or break your mold. I like what I like. I can’t help that I’d rather rock to Fall Out Boy than rap with Lil’ Wayne. Sorry I prefer live instruments to samples, synths and autotune. ‘Computer Love’ was so last century…. gtfoi.

I’m that kid who leaves work early to got to shows. The same kid who spams my friends pages to make sure they take a listen to a hot new band. The kid that takes pictures of/with bands I don’t know, so they can feel appreciated. I’m the kid who doesn’t give two flying shits what people think because I can’t afford to have my life shattered every second of every day.

I’m unscene, yet so scene. I’m what the scene was supposed to be. I’m me, only conforming to standards I agree to. Not changing myself so I can play the role. Ghetto rocker or punk-pop hood-dweller… I’m that kid who shuffles between Disney pop, alternative hip-hop and electro-rap. I’ll ride through Inglewood blasting All Time Low, cause I can and idgf.