the start.

its a tug-a-war.
one side, the other.
and the only one falling in the mud is me.
do i leave everything behind?
is this really me?





it could be.

life in general.

i like it when people answer "life in general" when they get asked a question.

i'm not gonna lie.
i kinda miss them, not like immensenly.
but i do.
its sad how so many memories go to waste because you dont want to look back at them in anger.
like my brain is a closet, and all those fun times and escapes get shoved in the back with old clothes to collect dust.
but i dont think theres any remedy really. like what can i do? apologies not accepted and mistakes are irreversible.
sometimes i wish i had that memory eraser like in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and i can go start a new life somewhere else.


this is funny.
and stupid.

You live in terror of not being misunderstood.

its two fucking in the morning.
you'd think i'd be doing something other then expressing my thoughts to a computer. so what, its objective. i need to ramble.

i need to know: the reason of life, the response to love and the answer to happiness. or reverse all that and it'll question the same. is it god? is it existing? is it food?

so i came up with a conclusion that there is no conclusion.
here it is and if this was not written, i would tell you to cover your ears.

#3 to all those indie rockers who use to be emo/scene who use to be gothic who used to listen to britney, you are just the same as those jonas brother lovers and hollister wearing kids. why we do we strive to non-conform, to be different? there is no use. when you decide to non-conform and stick it to the man you are conforming to non-conforming and conforming makes you non-conforming that makes you love the man. there is no way out. and what do you do...nothing absolutely nothing. just do what you feel like and you'll be happier. in a sense.

#2 after miles of research and meters of observing i realize that love is a placebo. kinda like if there was no god, we would need to invent him thingy. its the idea that its there. we need it to strive. if we wanted we could rename love and call it poop. i poop you, i love you,makes no difference. its the meaning behind the word. and truly, i truly believe, like hands down believe; that outer beauty has nothing to do with it, well at least for me. i know that is like what tons of platonic seeming people say but if you move me, make me think differently and change me for the better, and 'poop' me, you got me. i had two people in mind, and i tried to imagine growing old with each of them and im sorry to say, but mr. six pack you lost. i think the best time to fall in love would be when i'm 70 and can barely see (and breathe for that matter), most of the people i know will be gone and he wont have to be brad and in no way in hell would i be angelina, so what does it matter. our first date can be sharing prune juice and taking a walker down the beach.

#1 when i think of happiness i imagine myself last new years, nipping cold in a dress, outside in a lawn chair on the balcony porch in the back, watching the cars go by like moving stars in the distance and playing my harmonica as the old year flew by with a tick of the clock.
am i ________ because ... :
stupid- i stopped at alg.2,
cruel- i eat meat,
vain- i wear make up,
poor - i dont shop at urban,
lame- i dont drive,
immature- i dance and sing at random times,
bad- i dont have a filter,
good- i am nice,
mean- i dont like that person,
young- i am seventeen,
smart- i take two a.p. classes,
fake- i won,
idiotic- dont have stories that have a point,
annoying- i talk to much,
typical- like dances,
abnormal- i believe abstinence is key,
old- im not nine anymore.

YES AND NO.
SO HAPPINESS? I DO NOT KNOW.
but the most profound truth can come from not knowing it.

i'm not going to re-read that up there because if i do im going to delete it, so if it sounds like im on crack,
oh well.

and for the heck of it, some kurt vonnegut.
sometimes im a sin-wat in a pool-pah.

I WANT TO

EXPLODE.

just like spontaneously combust. blow-up and fall into a milllion tiny pieces of glitter and confetti and cheap candy. because i am a fucking pinata. serioulsy, if that were to ever happen, it would be believable that instead of blood and guts that fill me, i am filled with that stuff. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

today i just helped the rest of 5th realize how dyfunctional i am. i tried to talk about love and all i could think about was the randomest thing. all i could do was rant and ramble about DOGS.and worst i could not stop laughing, serioulsy all you had to do was hit me with a whithered wood pole and youd get your damn candy. i am so paranoid and i care too much about what people think of me. at that moment i wanted to get up, sing mint car by the cure,shed all my clothes(nevermind thatd feel awakward)and tell everyone what are they doing in life cause the only thing we are all sure of is that one day we will all die(its not pessimistic its reality)so get their arses out of those metal seats and take the risks,make love,punch somebody,tell your secrets,be yourself,and then run out of the class with my hyprocritic self. if i had a car, id get in it, and drive to a secluded part of anywhere and leave whatever world i have behind,stand up and scream like the scene from garden state or running with scissors and then laugh and cry at the same time and try to feel fudging infinite. with all this, i think im completely fine.

I KNOW WHAT I WANT and I KNOW WHO I AM.

-stephanie meza

-17

-5'1

-size shoe 6 1/2

-brown hair

-dark brown eyes

-never been on a date.

-talks to much

-insecure

-random

-growing filter

-your parents will probaly like me

-if you let me, youll probaly like me too.....

MAYBE.

i love it when people post blogs only to talk about others and then never go on again. haha i used to do that but i guess im growing up.

YOU'RE A BAD ONE MR. GRINCH.

i'll take the seasick crocodile.

favorite christmas song ever.

sometimes.

In polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes

Were you made ashamed,

why'd you lock them in a drawer?

I don't think that I ever loved you more.

recently, ive been looking at old photographs of who i used to be.

usually i cant stand even glimpsing at these horrid things,

but sometimes its best to accept your past for what it was.

i say sometimes a lot. its sucha a neutral word.

why

do

i

even

try

?

MOUTH.

i should use it more.
to tell you of my feelings.
to tell you the whole truth.

but the problem is,
how do i say it.