So I put on my black heels.

I was surrounded by that feeling when you needed to move, to prove something to yourself, to feel. So I put on my black heels. The ones with the straps that crisscrossed like friendly scars across my feet. The ones with the satin tie that cupped my heel like an experienced lover and leaned across my ankles with need, stretching to cover the milky skin there. Then sliding on my black dress and just standing still for a few minutes with my eyes closed, trying to see what I wanted to see come alive before me. Breathing in each second deeply and catching the cultured air in my lungs to exhale frozen figures that would melt my heart. I ran my fingers over the bodice, noticing every tiny flaw in the fabric, admiring the way the sheer outer layer fell above my knees, swirling like water with each swing of my hips. The rotations like waves, flowing in and out in irregular patterns, like heartbeats, kissing my temple, my body, the shore. Your lips as soft as the material I was dressed in. I stretched my legs out in front of me, forcing myself to search for every bruise, or mark, or ounce of fat that decorated my calves. I made myself glide my fingers up, to trace the purple spots or small cuts before, satisfied, letting the dress fall back down to my knees. I was searching for something I couldn’t quite posses, something I needed to find in myself. I watched the black cloth sparkle when I moved it. Black, the mourning color, the color which all others eventually came to, seemed to compliment and resist my shining hair. Angel hair some called the fine substance. My security blanket I fondly referred to it as. My curtain, my shield, my veil to hide behind when the world got too rough for me to care to handle. The cover to throw off when the time came to make the revealing as dramatic as it needed to be.



The soles of the shoes glided easily over the furnished wooden floors, like an old friend, worn in just the right places to fit together perfectly. Our niches the puzzle peices that matched. They glided as easily as an ice skaters over a frozen pond in the winter, cutting their way through the untouched. I moved as if I had this dance memorized, even though I was making it up as I went. Creating things off only emotion, your smile becoming a movement across the room, my arms tangling above my head when I thought of the way you made me feel when I looked into your eyes and saw the truth reflected back in them. The heels of the shoes were my picks, thin and delicate, waiting to crash down to crack when I wanted to stop the spinning. Not that I ever wanted to stop the spinning. I liked the feeling of twirling around in neat and sometimes not so clean circles. The good and the bad parts mending together while retaining shape. This was who I was, a dancing blur, my world turning so fast I couldn’t catch and linger over each individual sight. They were merely fragrances in my bouquet and I held them close to my nose, breathing in deeply, enjoying each aroma. If you kept moving- extending a leg here and reaching an arm out there- you never got dizzy. You just became one into the music, each note another dancer on the stage, coming into the spotlight to perform and then flitting back just as quickly when their part was over. I simply allowed the beat dictate where I went, weaving in and out of the scale. I let the whispers echo in my mind before filtering to my heart. Each word smoothing down my flying skirt or helping me keep my balance when I threatened to fall.



Sometimes I would catch glances of myself in the mirrors around my house. I wished I could take a picture of each of those moments and hang it on my wall for the world to see. I wanted to scream This is the true me! Do you see it? Arms and hands outstretched, reaching for something invisible to everyone else but oh so real to me, sparkling skirt floating above my knees. And my already long legs made impossibly lengthy by the cut of the dress and the heels. My calves extending beautifully into my ankles, each part of my body melting together perfectly. I wished desperately that you could see me as I was right now. I knew seeing me this bare to the core would be the thing to have you fall in love with me. I wasn’t just the shell you saw during the day, I wanted to lead you down entrancing paths into my mind. To feel the world like I experienced it, to notice all the things I did, to see you the way I saw you through my eyes. I wish I could let the dress slide off into a pile of folds and turns. I wish I could take off my skin when you were around, to let all the secrets come forth and present themselves. And I wish you still saw me as beautiful as I was when I was dancing like I was then.

Viva La Revolution

This smile blooms happily across my face
Curling like the ribbon around your wrist
Coyly caressing the soft skin there
Pleased by an unexpected twist

Showing a new side to the shiny penny
You’re loosing your worth with each passing day
Credit fading to reveal heavy lead
Value going down as you run out of things to say

Less and less means more and more
Fake diamonds are loosing their gold
Hold as tightly as you want
You’re going to loose your hold

We won’t stop until we know they’re free
Leaving hints for all to see
Crossing lines and hearts, hoping not to die
You wish this was the last goodbye

People are starting to fight back
Tearing the plastic that engulfed them
I’m glad to have witnessed
Where this wonderful chaos came from

Exposing the thieves for liars
Questioning the things they’ve seen
Rethinking their opinions
Wanting to know what you really mean

Be warned, things are changing
And this time it’s a turn for the worse for you
I’d start thinking up your excuses now
You’re going to need them before we’re through

xo Trying To Find The Words

j

*laughs bitterly*

It seems my clusmy mistakes how tripped me yet again.

My user name is supposed to be TryingToFindTheWords but I accidently submitted TryijngToFindTheWords. I'm such an idiot some times...

Will

Will this be one of those things that 10 years from now people will be flooding into? And I'll have to turn my comments off because there are so many kids wanting to comment my words and let me know how they feel? Like Ryan Ross's life journal and how he deleted it after P!@rd exploded. (He did get rid of it, right?)Or how Pete Wentz won't let people leave comments on his blogspot (Hey Pete if you are reading this. Leave me a comment and say hi if you could please? :])

Because I kinda want it to be like that. I want people to read my thoughts and words. To love my lyrics and look up to me in a way. To trace back to the days when I kept a blog on buzznet or mibba or twitter or blogspot or myspace or livejournal or wherever I chose to write.

I admire Pete Wentz for his writing. He probably gets this a lot but he is so talented. He handles stress so well and rude kids too. I adore the way he responds to harsh "fans" in Q&A's on FOB's website. Magnificent really. I don't know many people who could stand what he goes through. And I admire him greatly for that.(cheers wentz, you are great in my book *knocks glass against yours*)

Maybe. I hope so. I secretly dream of it. To sing until my lungs give out in front of crowds of kids humming along to every word that I wrote. (What? Stop looking at me like that. I borrow lyrics sometimes to explain how I feel.)Because I love singing and nothing gives me greater pleasure than writing. I bet that would be an amazing feeling to experience.

I can only hope and work and strive for it.

xo Savannah

picture

so

so I definitly just took my anger and sadness out on a (innocent) english question and went on a ranting rampage over "what would happen if the book continued?". My english teacher is going to be confused by my emo and passionate answer I bet.

<3

Friction or Fiction?

I am so messed up right now. Even as I type this my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. I feel sick. If you read this whole post I just might fall in love you. It's not like you will be the first one I have fallen for, do you see my skinned knees and bloody hands darling? They bleed for you. Or the only one for that matter. oh by the way darling (can I call you that? because I would love to call you that.) Am I the only one who thinks you, the one always on my mind, are beautiful? Am I the first? Am I the only? How do you feel? Do you feel beautiful? Because I think everything about you is beautiful. Just give me an hour of your time and I can make you feel the same way as I feel about you. But then again I am lovesick and these words stick. The roof of my mouth is crowded with things I have thought again and again but never spoken. Thats why I s-s-s-stutter over my words sometimes. I need to make sure I don't let something slip. Because that would be a castatrophe and everyone knows how I deal with embarrassment.

I need answers. I need questions. I need a voice. I need a pen. I need my mind back. I can't stand this. I don't know what 'this' is but I need to get away from 'it'. I feel like I am being restrained, being pressured, being suffocated. I can't breath. A week ago I woke up in the middle of the night, choking and not breathing. Choking on what you ask? I don't know. Maybe all these words that are bubbling to the tip of my tounge, only to be swallowed again?

My dreams have become crazed. In them I am where I want to be but I can't see around me. And you are there and you love me the same way I love you. (can you explain to me the way I love you again? I must have told you millions of times in my mind. Just say those little words, acknowledge me. please, I am drowing in a sea of my own doing and baby you know I can't swim. Toss me a lifeline. I am pathetic and I know it and I hate it.) I can't stand this. I'm throwing items around my house, breaking pencils and tossing clothes, and throwing ideas around the constraints of my brain. Words, verbs, nouns are rebounding around my skull and then flowing out of my mind, passing my heart, and cascading down through my arm, only to crash to a jerking halt in my wrist. They sit there and pile up. Soon they will back up so far up my arm and my heart that they reach my vocal cords and something will snap and I will let them spill out of my mouth. Frusterated, I'm filled with all these ideas and thoughts and yet I can't really explain them- to anyone, even myself. I feel heavy and weighed down. I'm trying desperatly to get it on paper, to try to make sense of my thoughts. Feelings rush past me like a cool winter wind and swirl around my feet, twirling leaves and debries and crumpled bits of paper and lovesick thoughts around in my own mini tornado. It penatrates through my skin and enters my blood stream with an icy blast. It numbs me to my core- my bones are brittle. Desires brush against my skin like a lovers kiss and I shiver deliciously at the touch.
One second I know whats going on and how I feel, the next scond I do a complete 180 and I have a totally different point of view. Writing it on paper, telling you, just means admitting it to myself.

And I don't know if I am ready for that. I can't admit these truths to myself. So I ignore them while blantenly putting up away messages with their name written in between the lines. Its so obvious, can you see it? My thoughts, my days, my time, my actions- everything revolves around that one person I can't get out of my mind.

I know I must be insane. I'm having out of body experiences. Headaches add to my confusion. Off limit thoughts of me and you rack my body and I flinch my head away, trying to break off my train of thoughts before I become engrossed. You are already all I think about and now you haunt my dreams. You control my life and you dont even realize it.

I see you standing there, do you see me sitting here? I've been listening to love songs on repeat for days and days. I am so confused right now. I keep on blurring the lines of my mind and reality together. I know how people act in real life but in my head I imagine them as I want them to be and thats how I think of them. The way I lust over them. The way I spend my days dreaming of them. I know in real life that they are different but I can't help but adore the vision I've created. And my version is so much better than the real life one. The flesh and blood one hurts to think about. Do you even know my last name? I want you. I want to be you. Then I can be around you all the time. I can see the way your skin feels, if your hands are really as soft as they look, if your thoughts match mine. Sometimes I see you glance my way. Or at least I think I do. Maybe it's just my overactive imagination, spurred on my hope and driven by desire. I know some people dont like you, people including some of my friends, but your voice drives me crazy with delight. I can pick out your laugh in a crowd of people and my ears prick up when I hear your voice. It means you are near and that makes me shiver with anticipation. I have always loved the name . Is it just a coincidence that that is your name? Or is it fate?
Doctor, doctor fix me up right now. My mind cannot control its self at times. Frankly I think you are so much more. Brighten's "Mr. Mister" means so much to me right now. And so does the Dangerous Summer's "Of Confidence". Oh God, my mind is such a mess but theres these things I got to do. Yellowcard has always been there for me. If I bite my tongue it bleeds. I can't see. It leaves us wondering. Are you wondering?

If you have read all of this, thank you. If you understood it... well I doubt anyone will make sense of my jumbled thougths and tooclosetogethertwistedfeelings. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read this. And if no one reads this, at least I feel better because I managed to spill a little of myself on paper. The shaking has dimmed and the twisting of my mind has stopped for a few turns- at least for now. I dont't need your approval but I would love to have it.

This is only the beginning. I can promise you that.

~~~~

btw- my title "fiction or fricton" is from the amazing mind of Shaant. Unpublished but he still composed those words and I want to give him the full credit he deserves. He really did sum it up this whole feeling best when he wrote-

if you would be so kind
i will be needing a femmé...standing 5'3"
right in front of me
ok ok, orrr...
under the tree
she'll need brown eyes and a bright smile.
dark hair, olive skin.
(do you think i am asking too much of him?)
her laugh will need to be something
i wont forgeteven 882.5 days after hearing it...
she needs to trust and
be willing to sneak around
ya know... 'fence dates'
and randoms nights of skipping town.
her inerests need to peak mine..
and she can't match all the time
i want thoughts and kisses
i want her to bend her back
and tell me what to do.
and most of all
i want to be able
and look back on thisand realize that
i can be cliché sappy...
as long as i was happy.

I LOVE the way he writes. He is the definition of amazing in my eyes. I adore him. If I could write half as well as him I would be content. His writing is so freaking amazing.
xoSavannah