petrified.

you say you want a revolution? well, you know, we all wanna change the world.
-the beatles

i HATE confrontation. with a passion. it makes me physically sick sometimes to have to deal with it. but i'm afraid it's going to have to happen sometime this week with two of the people i love the most: my parents.

i was sitting in spanish today, going over the details of a conversation i had with them about going to bonnaroo. currently, this is the way i'm seeing it: i'm 18. i'm willing and able to pay for my ticket. i have a ride. i no longer live with my parents for the majority of the year. and yet, i'm still asking their permission to go. it doesn't add up at all.

needless to say, this has to stop. and i have to be the one to tell them. and that petrifies me. so, i have to break apart from the united parents kingdom and declare my independence as the united states of kathryne.

guard your stations, men. there's about to be a revolution.

unpleasant.

bring me a glass of water, it must be good and clean. i'll chug it with the dosage that i'm not to exceed.
-the dears

white finger nail polish, slamming doors, and a tired soul.
this has become all too familiar.
do you understand what i'm saying?
do you even notice i'm speaking at all?
you're not acting the part of a good listener.
but suicide seems all too cliche right now,
so rest easy;
monotony has saved another life.

dependence.

everything i've said up till now,
was all about being on my own
but when you get down to it,
it's awfully lonely being alone.
so maybe you don't feel the same way,
but i need you to hear this too:
during that time i spent alone,
all i ever thought about was you.

freedom.

matchmaker, matchmaker, you've done me wrong
but that's enough of that tired old song
on my own two feet, i now stand
on solid ground, not your shifting sand
my fate is my own, so leave me be
to live forever in my castle by the sea

pillow talk.

i hate it when people ask me if i'm alright. mainly because i hate lying.
i hate being in one place for too long. it gets to be too suffocating.
i hate silver linings. they're always too thin.
i hate real life. why can't it be more like the movies?
i hate being single. ok, i hate being alone, but they tend to go hand in hand.
i hate the drinking laws. do i really need to elaborate here?
i hate being at home. i really don't even consider it home anymore.
i hate how i always spend too much time thinking about one person. why can't i just get over them?
i hate how hard life is. but i hate not knowing what comes after life is over even more.
i hate paradoxes. but i love them at the same time.

i never knew what it was
about this old coffee shop i love so much
all of the while i never knew
all of the while
all of the while it was you
-landon pigg

living.

growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.

my mom's cousin said the other day "we used to have fun" after regaling stories of her and my mom when they were younger.

when i'm older, i don't want to say that. i want to say "yeah, i had fun. i'm still having fun." there was just such a longing in her voice. it was as if she really didn't have very much fun anymore. that bothers me. why do people associate growing up with becoming more responsible, and therefore not being able to have fun? can't you have both? i think that this is one cake that i'll be damned if i don't have it and eat it, too.

that's the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up. they forget. they don't remember what it's like to be 12 years old. they patronize, they treat children as inferiors. well i won't do that.
-walt disney

abstract.

lines, shapes, splatters
dancing across canvas
water marks, stretch marks
telling stories of people past
life has gone by
abstract and in motion
remaining still is not an option
and hatred's just a waste
waiting for the right moment
leaves me only wanting
the right moment never stays
it is like a passing wind
stirring up leaves, unattainable, and
gone as quick as it came
so splatter more paint, weave more lines
for when the painting's finished,
a blank canvas will not suffice

possible career choice: writer?