Five years apart
And yet she acts and sounds younger than me
It's funny
The big 2 0 is catching up to her
And I'm still 15
The older she gets
The younger she seems
Radiating youth and imagination
Her head is constantly in the clouds
The older I get
The older I seem
My logic and Arrogance
Keeps me to the ground
She floats while I drift
She's clueless while I'm knowledgeable
A Clueless Uke with a Romantic Seme
How does that work?
She's tall
I'm short
She's passionate
I'm determined
She doesn't set her standards high enough
I set my standards too high
She's responsible
I'm lazy
She's a crab
A Cancer
I'm a scale
A Libra
We don't mix
And yet we're together
We hate each other sometimes
But love each other all the time
She's going to be a 'grown up' soon
And yet I still see a 15 year old in her.
It's funny how that works
But she's my sister
And she'll always be

Anxiety rising
Heart pounding
His eyes wondered to his partner
Fidgeting
He knows what He wants
But He can't seem to find the right time-
The perfect place
He knows how to hide it
But his partner can't seem to sit still
His partner glances around
"How convenient" His partner smiles
"A bathroom."
He raises his brow
"How ironic" He smirks
"It might be occupied."
His partner frowns
Anxiety is radiating off of him
He can see it
They know they don't have much time
During their journey
He felt there were so many opportunistic locations
Where the mention of drugs and rape occurred
But He was nervous on how to act
It didn't show
He hid it well
Even He was surprised on how calmly He suppressed his lust
But He knew that when the time was given
He would push too far.
His partner finds an opportunity
"Gotta wash my hands." He blushes.
"Sure." He replies and follows knowing whats expected.
They enter, but he's surprised his partner is in fact actually washing his hands
He's feeling dumbfounded
Until his partner turns to him.
He makes a gesture to leave, but turns back to kiss him
His partner turns away
And the kiss lands on his cheek
"I don't want to anymore." His cheeks are flush
"Alright" He replies and opens the door to leave.
Suddenly, He feels a tug on the back of his shirt
His partner pulls him back inside
And He turns to him
And they lock lips
And their tongues slid against one another
And they're in a tight embrace
And His hand moves to his nipple
And his partner pulls away
Fuck. Too eager
He wants to call his partner a tease
He's kind of upset, but relieved
They walk outside and breath fresh air
Anxiety lowering
But heart still pounding
His partner thinks He hides it well
But He often feels himself tremble
Just waiting for the next kiss
Like waiting for a next fix
All the while
He smiles
Just waiting for that opportunity again.

Practically sleep walking
Beside my best friend
I wanted to be awake
But my eye lids wouldn't stop fluttering.
We strode down the halls
and talked for a while
Explored the campus
Inside and out
Until we reached what looked like a dead end
There's a door to our right
Both drawing and suspicious
And we decide to go inside
We take in our surroundings
And proceed with caution
The echo in the spacious area adds humor to our stiffness
Umbrella
I say
Ella
She echos
I stop for a moment and draw a fake rifle
I'm Leon from 4
A zombie flies out and I gun it down, while she laughs in the background.
I chuckle--I felt like I was still in dreamland
We reach the bottom and were presented with two doors.
She innocently approaches the black one, just as I notice it reads
Emergency Exit. Alarm Will Go Off
My eyes widen
I panic and dart for her
NO
Huh?
Its too late
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOO
The alarm sounds off
Panic strikes her
And I feel a need to protect her for some reason
I grab a hold of her hand
This way
We open the other door and exit
Expecting the whole school to be in panic
But we realize no one had heard the alarm
It was only in that area
Where no one was around
My heart is pounding
My eyes enlarged 
I'm wide awake
I turn to her
She turns to me
And gives a smile
I smile back
And we laugh
...A lot

My rhythm's off
My eyes won't close
I stare off into the dark abyss displayed before me
Its my room
Its as active as night and yet I can't get to sleep.
I turn to the left and the faces of my dolls taunt me with wide eyes.
I wonder if that's how wide mine are at that time.
I turn to my right to see my cat mocking me with closed eyes
Even though he hums a song of slumber, I can't seem to close my eyes.
I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
Darkness,
but my eyes start to close.
Discomfort,
and I feel the sheets constrict me.
The pillow under my head pounds against my neck and back
I can't sleep on my back
I choke
I flip onto my stomach
I can breath
My intakes are deep and I feel my nostrils widen and narrow.
The pillow now embraces me
And my heartbeat thuds against the mattress
My eyes start to close
But I'm not asleep
I'm just trying to fool myself
Tell myself
Man I'm so tired.
I'm not lying
But I'm not truthful
I stay unconvinced until I black out
Dreamless sleep
Nothing goes on anymore in my head
Its just black and I remember it all
Nothing
Deprived of sleep the whole summer and I'm sick
I'm tired
I'm lacking
I'm slacking
I'm suffering
My body
My mind
There's nothing
I'm empty
But full
I'm working
I'm running
Not on fuel
But on determination
I want to succeed
I want to redeem
I want to improve
I want to impress
Nothing will hold me back
And everyday, I'm shown that I can
That I do
And that I will
Sleep cannot deprive my drive
Not only to succeed, but to survive
Survive the hardships I weight myself down with
So I will accomplish this goal
Its the only dream I have nowadays
And I won't let it take a toll.

July 28, 1890

Though the end seems near, the sensation of accepting it is a faint yet lingering flavor in my buds.

He's come to tell me that my departure must come again. I look him in the eyes and hold out my hands for him to confine me. He rips that crevice into my hollow corpse and pulls out the soul from my previous life to swallow  so that he may relive that still and mournful existence. Drifting into that longing oblivion, I erase into the nothing in which I started out with; the pale, fleshy shell that reflects no light of the dead skin it was born in.

...I awake from my fateful dream, enlightened with destiny in my mind and the scent of rotting souls that draws me near it. I can hear it...the tempting slur of me drawing my last breath. I am oblivious to the fact that I am now carrying my close one's revolver. It wants to break me...it wants to dig its claws deeper into my shell and discover how much pain it takes me to feel, how long its been there and when my mind will cascade from the numbness in which I call sanctuary. Standing in the middle of the wheat field, I realize a grave sits in front of me.
Vincent van Gogh it reads, but arising from it is a small, dirt covered child. A blanket as blue as flowing rivers is slumped over his shoulder while a small bear doll resides in his grasp. His features are much defined: the childlike structure, the tiny hands with bitten nails; but he stands so still...and...His face is clouded as though God stippled his hues and pupils.
Had it not been for my eyes, it would appear as though I was a body painted after birth.
He mouthed and it struck me out of the peace of my numbed mentality. This was who I was before my first departure; this was the boy taken form his subdued serenity...I needed to bring him back...I needed to renew his death and bring him back to the passionate agony of a luscious calm. My spirit needed to be returned to death in order to be tranquil!
I brought the remedy to my chest and released the resolution through my heart.
I missed.
Border line mentality...
Departed yet present...
My expression remains defined
While my body stipples into nothing
A dark paper with two eyes
Neither absent nor focused, but longing
For an end
.....................La tristesse durera toujours......................
............................The sadness will last forever........................

Each throbbing pain pulsates
as though a boot stomping against my face.
The pain starts at my temple and creates a maze throughout my cranuim for my headache to course through.
It decides to settle in my frontal lobe and use my orbitals as foot rests.
He turns restlessly, smashing against one parietal side, then turns to lean against the other.
The pain is unbearable to me, but others would just tell me that there is a simple solution.
Take a pill.
Three simple words, but I just won't do it.
They even do it in front of me, but I just won't do it.
They tell me I won't choke, but I just won't do it.
I can't.
Memories from the last time I took it carefree still haunt me.
It may sound silly, but...
...
That day was like any other.
A developing headache that required a remedy--a pill.
I used to take them all the time; it was like breathing air,
but that night, they were frustrated at how easily they were used.
As usual, I put the bitter oval on the center of my tongue,
took a huge gulp of water and swallowed;
It got stuck.
I didn't panic at first and decided to consume more water,
but he was being stubborn and decided not to budge.
Annoyed with his behavior, I swallowed hard and he shifted
down the wrong pipe.
My heart pounded as I began to emit a series of hacks.
He wouldn't escape; he didn't plan to.
His goal was just to fuck with me.
Slowly, he made his way down my throat, 
making sure that I felt every corner he turned to get to my stomach...
If that truely was his goal, then he has succeeded.
...
Even if my head is throbbing
to the point where I wish it would just implode
Even if cramps are exploding in my abdomen
to the point when gashing my torso open would bring sweet relief...
I would rather those things happen than take a pill.
You may think I'm ridiculous or weak or stupid,
but I'd rather be called masochist than go through the trauma of taking a pill.

I had two other entries previous to this one, but I'd rather skip over them just for the sole purpose of posting up my favorite entries.


December 23, 1888

This was a project I did for my english class where I had to write a journal for a deceased famous person...thing, and I chose Van Gogh! Re-reading this remindes me of how much my sister has taught me in the art of writing and expression. She's taught me imagery and illustration with a variety of terms and expanded word choice. I really love my sister and I'm glad she's always there for me...in my writing and in life.
...
March 30th, 1871 My being was long disrupted even before my first breath. Nineteen years ago, my body was settled into the earth with a light azure blanket and a small, soft toy. The paleness of my skin indicated that once out of the womb, I failed to be graced by the bright beam of life, the warmth of its almighty glow and unrecognized by the holy charm of its illumination. I was said to be still of body, but of mind, tranquility subdued me as I drifted into oblivion. Death captured me quickly and I felt a lusciuos calm as he ripped an opening in my chest and seperated my soul from my corpse, though this was a short lived serenity. My spirit dangled limply in his grasp until he loosened his grip, forcing me to plummet to a fate worse than that of hell...a new life. My name is Vincent Willem van Gogh. I am eighteen years of age and my date of birth is March 30th 1853--percisely one year after my first departure.

These are plushies that my best friend and I made together. They came out really well and I'm glad she showed me how to do it. She posted up more of these pics too, but I felt putting one up as well would show everyone our close bond! These plushies represent us...as well as many other things. Through my writing and my drawings you could see...feel how much she's influenced my life and I'm grateful she's got me on the right track.
...Heh...aren't I a faggot, but that's alright.