You're at the top of my lungs

This systems corrupt.
Corrupt in the sense that it has completely and utterly changed my life. Some may say it has been changed for the worst. They think that meaningless relationships and psychological abuse is not the way to live. They think that forced chemicals, stringing, spewing, spreading; across the simple human brain, is not the way to go.
Perhaps, being toughened up is not the excuse. But what is? What is the excuse for today; for the rest of my life?
My words are bold and sincere when I tell you, that I do not regret what I did. My life was a series of unfortunate mishaps that morphed into something so big, so beautiful and so disgusting that it ended up taking one gigantic turn into the ultimate slum. The ultimate, one night, congratulations, you're-a-fuckup award.
I could have had it a lot harder, believe it or not, but my enforcers took it easy on me.
Maybe they knew what had happened, maybe they didn't but in the end, it all came down to one main issue: fear.
They were scared of me, but had to hide behind this striking, manly persona to cover up their sheer lack of confidence. I won't complain, but this systems corrupt. During my stay at my luxury retreat, I endured torture, fake feelings, and more mental beat-downs than I could have ever dreamed of. But I couldn't have been happier.

All my life I have been searching for something. Something that I thought I could find in a pill, in a crooked, white line or possibly in the smallest piece of paper.
I was searching for something I would never find.
I had my escapes, strengths and weaknesses, but it all came down to this.
This is my family now; this is what I live for. This is where I'll be living for the rest of my beautiful life. It doesn't matter what I did to get here, but what really matters is the progress I've made: none.

-Xo

(Considering entering this in a writing competition. any opinions?)

Dear Conscience,

This isn't working out. Help is needed; help you aren't giving me. Why make this so hard? You’re being difficult, you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Just help me forget. That's all I ask. My faith has been shaken and I no longer trust; I no longer believe. You told me this would be easy; that's far from the truth. The most difficult thing I have ever done in my life is now happening, and I cannot seem to live through it. I cannot bear it another minute.

You deceived me. Severely. You never really lied, but you hid the truth, which is even worse. It's disappointing, really, it is. I expected much more from you. You're supposed to be my protection, and distinguish my rights from wrongs. Now you're shameful. Just shameful.

Can I no longer feel emotion? I want to; honestly, I do. It does not matter which one you would like to give me. Happiness and pride are preferred, but misery and guilt are welcomed as well. It seems that now I don’t care about anything anymore. Like I’m not even real. I just need to know that my heart's still beating, my lungs still expand, my tongue still speaks hurtful words.

So why is it that I don't feel sorry? Can you correct this malfunction? I'm a robot on the inside. Dead, sad, alone . . . voluntarily.

He doesn't hate me. Sometimes I wish he would. Knowing that what I said was worth it. Knowing it was justified and I had a good reason.

There's no need to scold me. I know I've been wrong. It only makes me afraid that I'll end up being evil. I don't want to be evil. I want to be right. Tell me, Conscience, are they one in the same?
He bothered me, I swear on it. I couldn't take it anymore. Of course I cared. Of course I did. I cared enough to not keep him inside. Inside this place which, apparently, has lost all capabilities normal of such an organ. Never would I allow him to keep believing I could still feel. That I could still love him. Because I don’t think I can.

Was I being selfish, Conscience? Am I still? Should I have kept on pretending? Kept on deceiving? I don‘t think so. No, it shouldn't be right. If it is considered correct . . . well, then I don't want to be.
I wished to be honest. Be blunt, and be open. I perfected these techniques, and now I wish I hadn't. I watched him walk away. Walk away in pain. I watched him sit alone. Sit alone in sorrow. And then I wished I had never spoken. Never said the irreversible words that took him away forever.

But conscience . . .

I think I'm beginning to understand. His pain is my punishment. I suffer in watching him hurt. I, the said evil force, have brought all this grief and heartbreak into the heart of another. Right now, he is probably asking his conscience the same things.

And that hurts. The fact that he would question himself. He does not deserve this hurt. I deserve to grieve for his hurt. This is my punishment. My guilt, my deadened emotions. My heart has stopped with his.

So, Conscience, maybe I was harsh to you, as I was harsh to him. Perhaps everyone I speak to now will only meet the ugliness which unleashed at that moment I spoke with him. Which I unleashed. Maybe he will forgive me. Maybe we can both love again. I suppose the penalty is the fact that I don't know. Maybe I will never know.

Never mind, Conscience. I've forgotten my point. Perhaps I do understand . . . Guilt is justified.
Sincerely,
Me

So, it's kinda my birthday today, which is kinda cool.

Em is coming over so I can kick her ass at SingStar. I so pen at it. Right, Suzi?

Then we're going shopping, and we're going to take some fun pictures(no, it's not what you're thinking).

But, um, yeah. Happy Birthday, me. I'm 14. I feel so stupid.

In other news, I bought a new tiara for Matt(lead singer of All For Nothing)(http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=7583179&MyToken=fbe6feed-bcfc-4121-987c-4dcf6c7db3a2 ). He had my other one, but this girl started crying so he gave it to her.
Which is kinda sweet.

-Xo

Falling in love is like falling apart.
Your all together and happy when it makes sense, and your with the person you love.
But once you split up, you already begin to split into pieces.
They take the part of you that you gave to them, depending on how much you cared depends on how much you lose.
Like, if you weren't going out for long, then you're either not gonna feel bad, or you're gonna feel slightly bad. If it was longer than you're going to feel like shit.

Which is so not fair.

On a different subject, I'm pissed right now.  But it's basically just teenage-angst bullshit. Again.

Matt from All For Nothing e-mailed me last night because they're playing a show tonight at the YMCA for only $6.00. He wants me to come and hang out with him.

So, why am I pissed? Because I'm not going. Because I'm going to the middle of nowhere for a week.

That's why.

-Xo

ps, Did anyone else find The Academy Is' phone number? I did. I did my homework.

My first impression is nothing but an act. You see, in the end, everything comes down to role-playing. Nobody likes being themselves, even if they are the most intelligent, beautiful or greatest person in the world. It’s all based around personal opinions and in order to tend to every ones opinions, judgement and needs, you have to role-play.

But…why?

Well, life’s a pit of lies. You gotta’ lie to get places and lie to get out of places. But always remember:
Lie about yourself, you’ll be loved. Lie to the ones you love, and you’ll be forgotten.

Just another life lesson we all ignore.

-Xo

To be honest, I’m not sure what life has in store for me. There are billions and billions of people in the world which equals billions and billions of lives that are functioning which equals billions and billions of people’s fate in the hands of an unknown power.

Where do I fit in here? Where do I fit in with the billions of lost souls in which happen to be so aware.

My life has got a plan and it goes like this. Like this. Like this. How do I get where I need to be? Where I want to be?
How do I get there?

Live. Live. Live.

Why am I not enthused?

-Xo

Impatience.

And my habits, my habits; I’m tapping my foot so fast it may just detatch.

Biting my lip, biting my lip; I’m biting it and it’s going to scab.
Maybe I’ll create my very own disease.

My hands, my hands. Won’t stop, can’t stop.

Stop tapping on the desk.

Clock’s about to strike, they’re coming for me.

I wish I hadn’t spoke my mind, I wish I hadn’t tried to stand up for what I believe in, I wish I just kept my mouth shut.

I wish my wounded mouth would fucking stay shut.

I never knew this was such a crime.

Clock’s about to strike. "Mass murder, mass murder, mass murder,"

Replaced the ringing of the bell.

They’ll take us out in numbers. We’re not accepted. This isn’t a cold, a flu bug or a fever, this is mass murder.

There really is no going back now.

I never knew speaking my mind was such a crime.