Sleep Tight, My Gun

that spark.

...it could start a forest fire.

That exact moment my heart double-timed, leaving my lungs playing catchup. It was gold. Absolute gold. Out of every experience I have had, that is the one I felt the most. I knew was right. I loved. I stopped for a breath. "do you feel it too?" ...oh yeah. I feel it. So much.

Fuck "rushing things".
My soul has never had this feeling. It feels like gold.

I'll protect you. With all I have. I will.

I'm Still Waiting Here, My Dear, For One Kiss From You

i like her.

screw correct capitalization right now, i'll fix it later. she's fun. she wants me to be happy. she's okay with my bizarre ways. i smell like her. i don't know anything about her.

that needs to change.

i hope she realizes that she has become really important to me really fast. really fast. i also want her to know that it's gonna take a godawful long time for me to make a huge move. i'm so afraid of dating.

i was right, by the way. i missed cuddling. a lot. i needed it back. nights sitting on that lumpy damned couch cuddling with someone who means something make my life.

that's all i have to say about that.

.

She downgraded.

A lot.

I would enjoy this. I should enjoy this.

You're a backstabbing bitch. You're a bitch. You knew. You knew I would care too. What the fuck were you doing? I'm angry at you.

I'm tired.

I'm having a few bad nights.

I really want to settle down with someone. I miss having a girlfriend so much. Someone needs to put me in my place, because apparently I'm not capable of doing it by myself.

I'm depressed. I am. I have a long strand of good days that boost my mindset in to the cockiest motherfucker to drive the streets of bergen county and then that driver gets pulled over. and arrested. I have to have some disorder. Good good good good good BAD. Fuck this. I want love. That's the only thing I'd ever be desperate for. I get enough lustful satisfaction to fullfill the desire of a bull on extacy, but I can't seem to find anyone to dedicate myself to.

My investment is huge. If i put more than a month of time into you, realize it fucking means something. I don't talk to people with intentions of keeping them around as often as most. I have maybe 3 or 4 kids that I actually feel I need in my life. The rest are disposable or replacable to me. I mean that. I've said it before, I've separated myself from emotional attachment.

Only one person can absolutely destroy me. Only one person has that much of an emotional investment from me. One.

You Were All That We Needed

It's not boredom as much as hatred towards time that could be spent accomplishing something.

Never Again Will You Rely On The Words Of Your Friends

Really?
I don't think so.

What you're doing is complete bullshit. I know it is. You know it is. I haven't thought about you in forever, why now? If you plan to back up your unsupportable keyboard, do it soon. You tell me you miss me, you want to see me, not talking to me "hurt" you. I think you're completely full of shit.

...And percocet.

They insult your drugs. A lot. For some reason, it's not really phasing me. It should. It should phase you too. I don't really want to get into that.

You don't miss me. You don't want to see me. Not talking to me doesn't hurt you. I phase you as much as the morality behind your actions does. News for you, hun: I can play the game much better than you.

I'm matching you.

Completely.

You're gonna get a mirror image of yourself. The closer you go, the closer I go. The further, likewise. Try me. You can't do what you want with me. I know how it goes, I know the loopholes, I know the phrases, I know it all.

I am bound to her.

For some odd reason, though, I miss you. For that short time, I was oddly satisfied. They're not gonna like this, but I've taken up a brutally honest lifestyle which is going golden for me. The reason I'm accepting you again isn't for your benefit. It's for me. I need to see something, but I don't know what. All I know is that I need this.

You're immaculately beautiful.
You're incomprehensibly flawed.

Mass animal murder is more of a burden than Columbine. Fucking BP and their goddamn oil.

We Were Stupid, We Got Caught

I'm not really in a blogging mood, but I feel I should because my last blog isn't really up to date with my life.

I've been looking at old love notes recently. I don't really know how I feel about them. They were sincere and heartfelt, but cliched as fuck and took advantage of a sixth grade vocabulary textbook. I don't really think I miss the times spent with her either. I don't really know. I know I miss late night cuddles. I would have that pretty consistently now, but someone's parents are quite the sticklers.

Here comes some mild bluntness.

People tell me to date Kat all the time. I can't get a single day without hearing her name and the word date as it's satellite. That shit used to get to my head. You know... maybe I should consider what they're saying. I dunno. For a good while I was seriously thinking about that, then she told me something that stuck with me. Roughly "Nicky, we're basically dating... just without the benefits!" I probably reacted to that in some awkwardly bizarre manner that she just brushed off in her coy little ways. I know that that stuck with me. The only benefit I genuinely need from anything is cuddling, and anyone that knows me and her know how we are.

I don't know why I'm talking about this. I don't care if she sees either. hi babes!

She sucked at cuddling anyway. I know it's been forever and a day since then, but I still like talking about it. The bitch wouldn't let me see Kat. I'm glad it's been over for awhile. She's worth it.

I apologize for my lack of order.

You're Never Gonna See the Things That Will Come of Me

I wanted to write a blog. And I'm going to, because I have that freedom, and I'm lucky.

Luck is a lady, and she's a slut for my good looks. I mean, hey, greed and selfishness is necessary. If you don't look out for yourself, who else is going to? It's your job to look out for yourself, and you can help others along the way if it won't hurt you. No one else is responsible for your well-being.

I'm far from hurtable right now. She's coming with me. Oh hell yes. I'll make sure of it. You know why? Because she's pretty, because she's different, because she could use it, because I have plans for her, and because I have that power.

I'm a powerful kid. People don't notice it, but I really am. I'm persuasive, attractive, silver-tounged, and downright maniacal. Maniacal isn't always bad, sometimes it's just... beneficial. I can get my way if I want it bad enough.

Cockiness is just the result of realizing your abilities.

I'm also a very humble child. I know when I'm trumped, and I know how to behave in those situations.

She's cool. She sees this and she'll know it's about her. She knows what's going on. She's strong. She's solid on her opinions. She's downright beautiful. Awkwardness is a good thing.

I can trust her.

I'm a teenager, my life is supposed to be focused around girls. I found a good one.

Things are going to happen.

Torn to Pieces.

"He looked upward toward the night sky and said, 'Honestly... was this the best you could do? Truly? Create creatures willing to work themselves into a state where they toss aside all reason? If the answer is yes, then what does that say about you? If the answer is no, then why didn't you put some more effort into it?' He shook his head. 'You disappoint me. We are going to have words, you and I. When I am running the universe - when I am lord over all creation - rest assured I'll do a better job than this. And my followers will never doubt me the way yours are beginning to.' With that, Ryan retired to his inner chambers."

Rescue Me From All That I Am

It's been some time since I posted anything.

Last night was interesting. All I did was straighten my hair and wear a tighter shirt than usual (but by no means a tight shirt) and I had girls flying off me left and right. I have my eye on one.

I've had my eye on one, and I just forgot about it. I wish she screwed me over a year or so ago, it would have made my life so much better right now. If she sees this she's gonna know it's her. I don't give a damn. She likes straightforward guys. Nice to meet you, I obsess over you. Excessively. Recently. A lot.

"Sweet Josephine, will you carry me home?"

Each Night I Pray To God He'd Let Her Rest

This house is a fucking shrine.

Get her out of here. We've been through it all. Well... for the most part.
Should I feel guilty? It's creeping it's way up. I wasn't there.

She wasn't either. Whore. You're not worth shit. You never will be. I'm glad we went our separate ways, because when I have a good life going for me, you're gonna be knocking on my door asking to live in my basement. Suck my dick. You have experience. Partywhore.

wasting hours wasted.

Fuck ups. Absolute fuck ups.
Burn in hell. I mean that.

I'd Give You Everything If Only I'd Have Known You'd Take It

Pearl, you're an ass.
it's obvious. it really is. you're playing games. you're creating paranoia. I have a good thing going. don't take it.
i seriously would give you everything i could.

i would.

They Offered Their Hearts... and We Tore Them Apart

So I'd like to take a moment to discuss something really important in my life.

The Amory Wars

I know I know, claiming that a story created by a band isn't really the "coolest" thing to do, but I don't give a shit because Coheed is my life. my love.

Year of the Black Rainbow was just released on Coheed's myspace last night, and I've already listened to the entire album, consecutively, a solid 7 times straight. That doesn't include all the little individuals jams to the top tracks.

YOBR is the prequel to everything that happened in the Amory Wars up to date. I've heard that it's very "sci-fi" of Claudio to choose to do a prequel to his masterpiece, mirroring the works of George Lucas and his precious series. He didn't intend it to be this way, though. Claudio has been talking about his prequel ever since the first Good Apollo.

THIS ISN'T MY POINT... what am I even talking about?

I wanted to voice my theories on the concept of YOBR. Not that anyone really cares, but I just want it out there for the record (PUN). I believe YOBR switches POV between the characters and The Writing Writer. I believe something is going wrong with Ericka Court in TWW's life, so he decides for some unknown-by-me reason to put a "black rainbow", or elongated black hole (?), over the keywork. This causes some sort of chaos in the story that Wilhelm seems to take advantage of to overthrow the Mages. I believe "the Black Rainbow" the song seems to give hints as to that the setting of YOBR is the War of the Mages. There are hints of a war throughout all of Claudio's art surrounded in this albums release.

That's all I can speculate so far.

I know I'm being judged like a motherfucker right now, I just don't care enough to hide things.

Slowly Discarded Were The Remains of His Lonely Youth

Let me start this one with the disclaimer that in no way, shape, or form do I miss her. Blonde was never my color anyway.

I miss having a girlfriend. I like the late-night cuddles. They are my favorite. I've become quite asexual for a teenage boy lately, so it's not even about the ass... I miss having a girl I could be my complete self around. I could tell her anything. I mean ANYTHING. And I could do anything around her without fear of being judged. I can't say that for anyone anymore. I mean anyone.

Sure, my two little girlies are nice, but they don't cut it. They're close friends. Nothing more. I like saying I'm at peace with that, but we'll not get into that right now. I can't be my complete self around them. I can't act how I would if I were alone around them. I gotta be honest in saying I'm most myself around Andrew...

ick.

I need a girl. This sounds very desperate. It's not. I could get a girlfriend in a minute if I wanted. I know at least half a baker's dozen that would go for me should I want them. I'm just picky. It's as if I take as quiz for them and they all fail miserably.

I just got distracted.

I think it's time for new hair colors. spicy.

Tools of the Trade

I'm a writer. I'm a musician.

I have no emotion. I'm emotional. I'm shallow. There's more to me than you know.

I'm bipolar.

I have a six-page document file in my computer entitled "ideas". It's a list of words that makes sense to no one but me. It's close to my heart. As new as it is (probably two weeks old), it's holding my future. No one will see it but me. I showed it to Weir once, but that's probably it. He's my rhythmic self. I'm my melodic self.

I think people try to over do everything. Self-example: I used to think I was born mentally ill, but it turns out I was a blue baby, and that's all. Because of this thought, my mind thought it would be cool to develop a phobia of the mentally ill. This mental illness-fear eventually did spread to physical dysfunctions and things of the sort.

I'm afraid of really old people.

My point: Things like what I mentioned (also supported by the fact that I listen to music really loudly when I drive) are solely done to be noticed. People strive to be known by other people. It's our purpose, it's our overall goal. My way to obtain this omnipotent goal is music. I'm a hip-hop writer. I'm white, so I'll stick to the limits established to society. You'll all see.

I blame other things and people for my own flaws. I'm flawless. It's the wind that made the ball go out, thalassemia is the reason I can't run, I'm not famous because others try too.

Thalassemia is a bullshit excuse of mine. Never let me use it. Ever. Here I go again. It's your fault I use that bullshit excuse. Another bullshit excuse of mine. I self-inflict.

Don't we all?

I'm a scribe. We're all marionettes.

What Else Do You Need From Me?

I question life. I question why we're alive. I say I'm alive to write, to play, to perform, to entertain. I seldom believe it. Reassurance is key.

"I buried this hurt,
concealed in this heart
Go lock up your doors,
these cold steps will warm"

2010 is the Year of the Black Rainbow, and I don't care the ridicule I receive for believing this. This is my faith. This is my life. This is my god.

Issei

My opinion on music has changed a lot since I wrote this one song...

I've been getting really heavy in to hip-hop.

I think I'm racist towards my music. It's as if all black people can't write good music. I don't want to sound like a bigot, but I think it's how my mind works. I absolutely despise most "black people" music. I've been getting into hip hop aspects like Linkin Park, Hollywood Undead, and Limp Bizkit. My main musical influence in terms of the new project is Fort Minor. Mike Shinoda is one of the most respectful rappers I know of. Not once have I heard the word penis come out of his mouth. He raps about things that are important to him, he uses rock-influenced melodies, an amazing snare/bass balance, and intricate lyrical patterns to get his point across. I've actually known of Fort Minor since before the Rising Tied. I didn't say that to brag about it; I wanted to point out that the album (released in '05) has been in my discography for five years, so in a way, it's been in my blood for that long.

I want to open for Shinoda.

My blogs have been getting more and more superficial.
I apologize for that.

It's Too Late To Find A Better Way Out Of This

"Are you in or are you out?"

There is a Coheed lyric... "the world looks better when you're falling". I really have some sort of problem with this. I mean, don't get me wrong, I will never question my Claudio's methods and thoughts, but there is just so much more meniacal potential in that statement. I always transposed it into "the world looks better when you're burning". It's far more dark in tone, as if to say "here, I'll set you on fire. Trust me, you'll like it". Trust me, you'll like it.

Trust me.

"Arguing with a fool proves there are two."

I used to think I had a problem with trust. Turns out it's not as bad as I thought. Turns out it's a problem with choices I had, not trust. I chose the wrong people into the wrong things. I chose whores because they were more convenient. I chose shallow kids due to what a wise young pedophile once called "proximity infatuation". The easy way out.

I'm gonna get pretty cliche right now. I think... I have three scars on my right wrist and forearm that will not go away. You can probably infer what they're from. Everyone knows. I used to be a blabber mouth. In saying that I used to I guess that means I still am, because I'm doing so now... The point I'm trying to make is that I don't want them to go away. They remind me of important things in my life. As distant as she is, she's still a huge part of my life.

The gear makes the average the best. The mindset sets you apart.

Dedication. Stick to your own guns, live by your own code.

I'm better than all but one. I'm more of a genious than all.
You're all just too stupid to pay attention.

Once Upon Your Dead Body

I did not have a good day.

This might be a bit of a superficial, bitchy blog, but I'll wing it.

My record in tennis is 11-1. I hate Melendez for that. I beat the fucker four times before today. Four. Back down. Learn your place. First singles is mine. All mine. No one can take it from me. I worked so hard for it.

I'm tired. I leave to St. Joes every morning at 7 and arrive home at 10. That's fifteen hours a day at that godforsaken place. I love it there, but I'm drained from all of this. I sleep from 11:30 to 6. I'm awake at my house for two and a half hours every day, and that includes getting ready for school. I'm sick of it.

Kids are fake, selfishly righteous, egotistical, shallow, self-concerned fucks.

Thank you for your time, and I'm sorry this wasn't worth it.

God Only Knows When Your Word Isn't Pure

So tby is officially done. Forever. Let me rephrase that... So Rich and I are officially done with Bus. For the past month he's been a flaking, unreliable child.

This is all okay though. I have a project with Andrew Weir that's very promising, and it's been decided that Rich's lovely vocal chords will supply Nobody Move! with a hint of awesomeness.

All advertisement aside, I think I'm done with random hook-ups. I don't really enjoy them anymore. I want a girl. One. I'm getting over the one though. She's just my friend. I'm cool with that. I want a girlfriend. I want a cuddler. I want a cute girl. I want her to enjoy simple nights on my couch... just there...

There's a kid in my school that needs to learn a lesson. He goes to my school, tries to steal my girls, and acts like it's our school. They're respectable girls, you gorilla. They like me better. I run that place. I always have.

I miss her skin. I miss her clothes. I miss her smell.

Lists.

I really don't like kids. Or adults. Kids try too hard to fit in. All kids. Just stop, lower your standards, and get the fuck along. The thing is, that's exactly the same with adults. You think people would learn. Be your fucking self. Don't be afraid to be a "creeper". Don't be afraid. Nothing matters.

I don't want to die via natural causes. I don't want to get murdered. I don't want to die by anyone or anything else's choice. It's my life.

In religion class a few days ago my ignorant fuck of a teacher said that our life is god's creation and therefore not ours to end. We have the right to choose if we die or not. The church is wrong. The pope leads an army of ignorant, selfish fucks. Quote me. Organized religion is a country club. If I want to die, who are you to tell me I'm "not allowed". It's not selfish. I won't get into that, though...

Pop-punk can kiss my ass.

In My Presence You Will Make Sure the Fiction Meets Its Fate

Apparently I'm a romantic.

I don't believe it. This year I've been living the "hit it and quit it" motto, and I believe the situations I've been in this school year can support that. The nomad who told me this "romantic" thought knows me. I might be. I might be the guy that you see in the movies. I want to be.

Prove there is a god. I never capitalize that word. Well, I have, but every time I'm conscience of it, I revoke the Catholic-established believe in that being a proper name. I ask so many questions about religions because I want someone to persuade me. Those little "proofs" of "G"od are not accurate. Science can explain why the Earth is where it is. "therefore, God exists". I hate that phrase. It's philosophical, sure. And philosophy is my favorite state of mind, so why not? Because it's bullshit philosophy.

I'm straightedge. I'd like to talk about that. I don't drink, smoke cigarettes, or do drugs. First off, alcohol is retarded. I know a girl who drinks every weekend. That is not an exaggeration. Granted her reason is not just for a fun time, she has responsibilities I wish to never have to face, and she's just blowing it away with the alcohol that leads to her eventual premarital bullshit. Hah, if you know my life in any way, you know why I'm against cigarettes. Oh hey, you two maternal figures, nice knowing you. Time to die. Hope it was worth it. My aunt was a druggie. If my dad knew I was blogging about this he'd be terribly pissed off with me. Hah. Needless to say, Val was very very acquainted with tractor-trailers at the time of her death.

To be honest though, this isn't half of my life. My life is fairly normal as of now. School, tennis, shows, music. Teenage boshiz. I won't pretend and be all "I've been through shit you've never been through before, fucker. That makes me cooler", because it's simply not true. Everyone has bad times. I'm lucky.

I didn't know people actually read these blogs until now. That vaguely makes me want to censor what I say, but I probably won't.

Life is a mental game. Always.

I struggle with paranoia and my own self-worth.

Misleading Trust Into A Relationship That Makes No Sense

I'm tired. I'm delirious.

I want a bloodhound when I settle down. If I settle down. If I'm alive during the time in my life in which I would settle down.

The word "hound" holds a special place in my heart. I don't know why, but it just does. Maybe it's because of how I practice it so often. Maybe it's my fixation on Claudio's works...

Cryptic blogs seem to be my forte. I hate it. I'm doing it right now. I talk about myself too much. That's why I can't write, I'm too selfish.
...I'd do anything for her though...
I'm too selfish. I'm too cryptic. I'm too hypocritical. I'm too nothing...

I'm basically just typing at this point. I've been home and awake for 3 hours a day this week and last. That includes the hour and a half I spend at night to myself and the hour and a half I spend every morning getting ready to go to school.

I have no one to talk to anymore. I'm growing more and more paranoid about my best friend day after day. She's definitely out to keep me to herself. I see it in her eyes. My girl is going to realize my obsession. I'm sure of it. She has to. My St. Joes girl seems to be a bit too popular for her own good. Things have gotten weird between us ever since late January. I don't regret what I did though. I'd do it again. Time and time again. She's cute. Everyone I talk to is cute.

My drummer and I have an awkward relationship. He's REALLY good. Better than I am at any of my melodic instruments. I need to be better. I can do better.

My dog is dead. He was stupid, but he was cute. I pretend to miss him at times to get attention. That's selfish of me. There are times when I do truly miss him though. You know, those times when I drop a french fry and shout, "Max come!" so he'd come and eat it up. Those cute eyes. Those droopy ears. I was mean to him. He hated me during his last years. I grew up with him. 16 years of my life. Stupid dog.

What bugs me is when people claim they cut their wrists. Show me the scars, you stupid fuck. No scars? Really? Then I think you just grazed your wrist in your trendy little pusillanimous mannorisms. I've still got my scars from Mel, but thank god those ones are gone from that stupid whore.

I'm tired. I'm delirious.

I'd Do Anything For You, Kill Anyone For You

Is it bad that I hold you and Coheed in the same esteem? I don't know.

It's been too long. I'm a whimp, a coward... Sometime soon. It has to be. You've molded who I am. You've destroyed relationships from the inside out, made me change my physical appearance, influenced my vocabulary, my music...

Stop. You're too cute, too fun. You control me. I let you. It's an obsession. It's completely unhealthy.

I'll tell you soon enough.

All The Worlds From Here Must Burn

Hypocrisy is a strange concept.

I get annoyed when stupid fucks don't use proper grammar. I constantly question things society has brainwashed into the youth of Bergen County dumbass adolescents. Things like, and I quote,
"hello mothafucka , hey hi how ya doin..."
All grammatical failure aside, the repetitive nature of this godawful, senseless quote is the future of the country. I'm afraid.
I veered off path here...
The point I was trying to make is that since I question the frequented lethargic nature of kids these days, why don't I question the societal values that led Robert Cawdrey to create the first English dictionary. Why is structured spelling and grammar really necessary? Who says the kids I despise for their spelling and poor usage of commas aren't right in their actions?
Is it possible to not be a hypocrite? Is it possible to not pick sides? to be right?

The wise man is not the one who knows; rather, he's the one who questions.

Pray For The Broken, No One Can Fix Us

People are ignorant, self-amplifying, shamelessly righteous people.

"I know the feeling"
No you don't, bastard. You have NEVER been inside my head in this very time period with these very people in this very situation. Stop saying that and actually think.

People try too hard to relate to others. Do they need to do so? Is it just a nice way of saying "been there, done that". Well, if you really have, let me go through it then. By myself. Without your pompous remarks.

"Don't do that, that's not right"
Burn in hell, you hypocrite. You've done things that you knew full-well weren't right. You want to be the better man in this situation because it's much easier to say hollow words than to not do something you're aching to do, whether right or not. Is it really being righteous, or is it being that imperious, unjustly domineering fuck you know you are.

The guilt will get to you on your deathbed... latest.


Trust me, I've been there.

The World Looks Better When You're Burning.

Why the fuck would you do that? You know how much I hate it. Best friends? Yeah? You can suck my dick for all I care.

You said it so casually as if it shouldn't effect me. After all I've been through with that shit. I've tried it. No one knows that, but I have. She got me to. Don't. I'm lucky I stopped.

I guess I'm done with you then. Cool. That was fun.