I loved you , Guinevere , I loved you .

How fun is that picture ? I swear , she's the best . This will probably be quick . I am so tired . Johnathon has been working so much (try 8 to midnight . . .) and I miss him . I have been dealing with so much work drama , I miss good people . The girls at my store are amazing . But , I worked with one girl for four hours one day , and she screwed me over . She spent the entire evening complaining and talking down everyone at her store . It was miserable . But , I never did anything to upset her . Then , my manager has to sit me down yesterday to have a talk with me because serious issues were brought to her attention . She said , apparently you have a lot of issues with me . This . . . girl went to her manager for NO reason AT ALL and told her that I had said all of the things she said about my store , manager and co-workers . UGH ! I was furious . I'm not in trouble and hopefully everyone believes me , but it is beyond hard not to try and get revenge . I want to slap her across her face so hard . Or get her fired . Is that wrong to feel that way ?

On a much lighter note , I want to thank the girls who have taken time out of their day to lift my spirits . The things said meant the world to me and certainly gave me a bit of confidence . I greatly appreciate it and needed it . You are beauty personified .

I threw a barely smoked cigarette out the window today . Took a couple puffs and tossed it because I didn't want it anymore . Am I coming closer to being a non-smoker ?

I want to write . But I really need to sleep more . I want to watch Coraline but Johnathon took the player out of our room and I tend to have a very hard time getting that sorted out . And I really , just want to sleep . I feel so bad for Johnathon . He's worked 30 hours in the past two days . That is my full work week sometimes . Poor little guy is probably so drained and I MISS HIM !

But , anyways . I found a poem I wrote when I was dealing with some stuff in the past . It makes me sad because the ending is sort of happy and hopeful , but it's false . But I ended it . The poem should have ended with a warning of bad things to come . The storm that was slowly and distantly brewing . I thought about adding more . But , I think I will leave it because when I wrote it , I didn't know . I didn't know anything at all except that feeding my brain and the temporary high was enough to mirror hope . Its honest , I guess .

The Airplanes would have taken her anywhere : Tibet , Moscow , Israel , and Finland . She'd prepared lists with made up stories , she'd covered every last white with Dreamland . A fight for culture , it bargained , it begged , it screamed .

No one can really say what her response meant , no one could find the root of her torture . And the way she screamed became apparent , and the things she whispered became evidence .

"Bring the mirror to my face , and that's when you begin ." A phase , a place , a phase .
"Bring the mirror to my face , and I'll allow a bit more sin ."

Skeletons pulled their own weight , strangers pushed her on . Four more tries at a new year . Skeletons felt shoulder blades , strangers led her on . A place , a taste a place .

Fingertips withered down , the ivory as cold as ice . The south Pacific molded into a dream . And cat's bragged about their nine lives .

She'd fight for insomnia , for butterflies and a terrible ache .
The year of no melody , the year of hitting the brain .

A taste , a break , a taste . lucid , unafraid , give it another try . she's stretched , she's there . Vocal and aware .

It's time to embrace snow . A brand new delicate place .
She'd walk the streets barefoot now , oh , she can waltz now .