[05 Mar 2003|11:01pm]

I'm going to try to resurrect this dead blog because I feel it's necessary to exploit the tons of overemotional teen gems still contained in the pages of my old LJs. What better way to start it up again than with some epic poetry written back in good ol' 2003? Context is:
-age 15
-"dating" a dude i'd just met/never touched/was too scared to call
-had never touched a cigarette in my life
-had no betrayal in my recent past, therefore this poem is based on absolutely nothing.


A+ for phrasing, right?

you're lovely when you stutter.

so you know it's all your fault.

and you know you'll never

sleep again.

but you're telling me it's my burden

and you're touching your face.

and it's giving you away.

and when you turn your lovely back on me,

you'll hate yourself for trying.

and i'll try to hate you for your cigarette smell

and your breath that tastes of betrayal.

[23 Mar 2003|04:15pm]

hopefully this entry will give you a mental image of my impeccable taste in clothing at age 15. please note that socks were NEVER worn to match (intentional) and the "bicycle chain" was hung from the front to the back belt loop of my blue cuordoroy flared pants from le chateau. also - nirvana hoodie? where the fuck is that shit now?

[	mood	|	ecstatic	]
[	music	|	saves the day :: nightingale.	]

oh god there's nothing like retail therapy.
i went out to this market thinger today with my dad and bought:
-a new kilt, it's tan coloured, pleated, short as fuck, it has a little chain and all. mucho fucking hot.

-black mesh top, it's all asymetrical cut like whoa. it's hot.

-3 new pairs of over the knee socks: black and gray stripes, thick black and white stripes, white, pink & blue plaid.
- nirvana hoodie
-green & yellow zip up hoodie, so fucking cute.
-bicycle chain for my pants.
YEAH AND I HAVEN'T EVEN GONE TO LONDON YET..THAT'S TOMORROW. all day by myself shopping around. [shrug] should be interesting. i want to convince my dad to let me get doc marten boots. [evil grin] anywhore. i heart the shopping. home tuesday.

[03 Apr 2003 | 06:12pm]

This is some classic teenage poetry, written in April 2003 (age 15). i don't really think any commentary is needed other than holy shit i really liked adjectives.

[	mood	|	blank	]
[	music	|	alexisonfire - 44 caliber love letter	]

the deepest red

so ring all the bells and
set off the fire alarms.
declare this war against your favourite four letter lie.
you'll be detonating your deepest red bombs by midnight,
the same shade as the barely-there rings of lipstick still lingering
around the rims of your most precious champagne glasses.
and they'll pretend to explode while you mouth
your pretty sound effects.
and didn't you paint the inside of your head
a sickening blonde?
meant to match the few strands still left on your sweater.
but i bet she never told you
she was really a brunette.