Cause And Effect

I admit that I love you but
I'd rather choke than show it;
Trust is not something I do,
especially not with someone
someone that's like you.

Who I could fall for, so very
easily, and who already has
my guard down. Yet still I am
on edge. Eyes and empty boxes,
empty boxes mark my escape.

Empty boxes made of cardboard
walls, the walls you trampled on
and tore down before I could blink
or run away; and now I am exposed
and open but you don't know it yet.

You don't know it yet because you
stopped watching; stopped seeing,
you aren't there or here or anywhere
Just everywhere you can't find me, you
couldn't find me so you stopped looking.

Stopped and looked and passed me by,
like a pastlife you can't quite remember,
I am nothing to you without this mask on,
and it's gone and you don't know who I am,
I don't know who I am anymore.

The roadblocks are lifted and I can see the
road out, but I have no one to lead the way,
do I really want to go alone? You made me
laugh my way out of this, and I think I have
to walk away from you on my own.

omg WANT

I want these prints like Amy Winehouse wants crack. And I would kill for the talent these guys possess in their pinky finger.


"White Rabbit"



"plastic.is.a.sin"




"If Your Kisses Can't Hold.."



"old friend.."

I'm tired of being attacked

If I so much as mention doing anything other than schoolwork, at any point in time ever, I'm sick of being attacked. She wants me to be doing it 24 hours a goddamn day. Twice this week she's started in on a litany of my faults out of nowhere, we won't be talking about school work or anything and all the sudden she's gone batshit. Screaming, threatening to cancel it, threatening to kick me out, telling me what a lazy piece of shit I am.

I won't repeat the things I said today. They weren't appropriate; I'm ashamed of having said those things to my mother. But the message was valid and I won't apologise for that. She's being a bitch, and I'm tired of being attacked just because she doesn't see me with schoolbooks every time she walks in. It's like if she doesn't see it, it must not be happening, and therefore, I'm just a worthless lazy bitch. Her words, that last bit.

Oh.. and now she's threatening to blow out her brains because she got a late fee.

Grow the fuck up, mother. I hate that I'm beginning to hate her. But it's the truth.

Oh, wow.

She just went "I wish that goddamn 50 dollars would get here, I could use the gas money." Wow. Um. That's my money, thank you. I love how you entitled yourself to it.

She makes me want to die... But the difference between her and I is that I love her too much to ever tell her that. I will never tell her how I used to cry myself to sleep when she would snap, how I still cry when she's standing outside my door telling me how she wishes she were dead, how I punish myself for that, how I blame myself. She will never know.

you make the prettiest sounds

And you make the prettiest sounds
with your silence. A stuttering melody

of lost words and sounds you've forgotten
to remember. The faces you make and the

tears that I pretend not to see. The noise
in your head is so loud I can hear it; the

static of my thoughts replies in kind.

You are the loudest when you stand around
and your voice is the strongest when you say

nothing at all. The complicated implecations of
your silent movie life make me wary and unsure

of where to speak; I want to ask you things but I
am too afraid of what you may tell me when you

look me in the eyes and show the truth.

I'm urging so bad right now

And I think I'm going to be sick.

I'm either going to make myself puke or find a razor.

Fuck.

After this weekend

If I get nothing good...

I'm quitting. I'm done. Finito.

I feel like I'm in this relationship with photography and I keep going "Is this good?" and being shot down. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.

I can only handle so much rejection from the art before I grow up and let it go.

I refuse to be the photographer with 30 years experience that's got the worst portfolio in the room.

I literally feel sick after a shoot because I know that the model will hate the images.

I love my friends

Seriously.

The ones that are awesome... Are really fucking awesome.

They exude win like the rainforest and oxygen.

Also, Seether makes a happy Becks, which is amusing, actually-- Seether is a pretty depressing band. Go figure. I'm a goddamn anomally, after all :P


I'm sick of pizza.

I want that damn bike.

I'm scared to shoot.

The mice are kind of boring.

Oh, did I ever even mention that? Yeah, I got two mice. They were cute, and now... Not so much. They don't like the whole being touched thing... Which, I do. I love snuggling animals. And animals that don't snuggle suck. It's the whole look but don't touch thing. Yeah... Never been particularly good at that. I usually want something... And figure out how to get it.

Or at least how to make sure nobody else does.

HAHAHA

Clyde: i'm staunchly in opposition of the tattoo, but it's your body
Becks: lmao
Becks: think of it this way
Becks: i'm basically stomping on him with every step i take!
Clyde:
Clyde: i was thinking..."maybe if she regularly stepped in shit i'd like it more"
Becks: LOL
Clyde: i heart chu
Becks: i heart chu too

Truth

Bats, bats, bats
bats those lashes again
and gets her way, pretty
lines and a laugh that
convinces Lucifer himself
to be good.

Run, run, run
run as far from Truth
for as long as you can,
but she'll find you and
you'll tell her things
in whispers.

Straight, straight, straight
straight to hell, she lives
in an abyss of niceties,
a charming lie you've yet
to really see.

They, they, they
they like to pretend, but
control is not a choice,
it's a given, and it was
never given to them, so
take it back.

You, you, you,
you can't have the keys
to every kingdom, or the
locket in every girl's heart;
Just soldier-walk away, don't
look behind you.

Update And a Day and the Life

So the day before yesterday, I woke up. Shocking, I know. Who would have guessed? Anyway, I dressed to the beat of Fort Minor's Remember The Name and then brushed out my hair and went downstairs. To abbreviate the boring shit, I ended up at the mall, searching for an id/cigarette case. I ended up with two-- a black cigarette case with a silver peace sign on it, and a business card case with black-and-rainbow-glitter gems embedded on the top. I walked around the mall for a bit and saw the CUTEST shoes known to man. I don't jest! I wanted them like Amy Winehouse wants crack. But I no can has, so I moved on. I ended up talking my mother out of $80 more dollars for an adorable corset and an even cuter pleated shirt dress. And I still need pants; I'm getting these, and this skirt (it matches my corset!), and this tshirt. I figure I can shred the sides and make it awesome.

Anyway, after that, I talked her into advancing me twenty bucks she's supposed to give me soon, so that I could get this book that I totally read by the time we got home (I'm not lying when I say I'm smart, I broke reading level records as a child in elementary school).

Now, it's two days later and I'm listening to Kate Voegle, not Fort Minor. And my Sunday shoot got pushed back one week, which, believe it or not, is an absolutely fantabulous coincidence of fate. I'm crashing at Anna's this Saturday and I was going to have to rush from there Sunday around eleven just to make it to the shoot location on time. Yeah, rushing and I know each other well, so I wasn't that fazed by the thought, but still. Unnecessary instances are best avoided, ne? I digress, however. Another reason it's such a great thing, is that I let the model get the dress-- after showing her about five different dresses to base it off of-- and it's pretty ugly (in my opinion). BUT she was really great and she's been an absolute peach about everything, real willing and just a joy to plan with. She has since offered to order one of those dresses I showed her if I push back the shoot one week. And thus, such a thing was done. That weekend will be hectic, however! I have a shoot that Saturday as well. I'm pretty nervous... -_- Eep!

Oh, and if you don't here from me by next week, my mother killed me this weekend. She knows Anna is in Milledgeville but... she doesn't realise HOW far precisely it is away from here. Try... Two hours and twenty-one minutes, according to Mapquest. That's one way. Over 100 miles. One way.

She's going to flip, but come on! I never ever do anything. She can suck it the fuck up and drive.