I've been up writing shitty poetry all night. Seriously, this shit sounds like stuff Paul wrote for like Qusak when he was 15. I was typing it out and I was disgusted. I can do so much better. But I wrote like 6 poems in 20 minutes, so I guess it's not bad for that time frame...

Red Carpet and Rebellion is my new favorite song. It kicks ass. I've just been sitting around listening to the Distillers since I got home. I woke my mom up. She came in bitching about how she was trying to sleep. Funny how she didn't care that much about sleep that night her and Chris were drunk and I told them three times I was trying to sleep. Funny how it never matters unless it's her.

Most of the stuff I wrote was about her. But none of it compares to "These Days". I seriously believe that's the best poem I've ever written. It's also one of the most honest. And it's more about me than it is her.

I did get a few good lines though. I should just figure out how to put all the good stuff I wrote tonight into one poem and just weed out all the shit.

Me and Vicki went to the mall. We bullshitted and I had fun for the first time since I rollerbladed at 2 AM and listened to Rancid with as much passion as I've had in me in a long time.

I wonder if anybody out there needs this shit as much as I do. I wonder if people need music like I do. As much as food and water. As much as blood and air. That's what I get out of it. It's like a fucking necessity. I'd rather be blind because I think I'd waste away if I couldn't hear music.

These days the only thing I think about is getting out. I'm becoming Paul in my own way. In the end, all he thought about was getting away from her. And I fucking defended her. I fucking DEFENDED HER! I defended her when he called her an alcoholic and I defended her when he said she was selfish and I defended her when he talked about her hypocrisy. But now I know. It's funny what you'll defend when you're young and ignorant to the truth that swims in the air. It's funny what you'll block out of your memory when the only thing you want is a happy home. Now I just want out. And I know everything he called her and said about her is true. Because as you begin to form your own opinions, you realize he acted the way he did for a reason. He acted the way he did because he knew. He saw the truth and he knew she was never gonna change, no matter how much she lost and how many circles she traveled in. Because she never sees herself as wrong. And that's the problem. Because no matter how many bottles of wine she drinks, or how many times she lies to make herself seem better, she's never the problem. It's either my fault or his fault or Dad's fault or her father's fault... whatever, just so she doesn't have to take the blame. She's so fucking passive-aggressive that it makes me sick. And I just gotta get out. I'm counting the days until she kicks ME out. But, it'll just be an empty threat, just like it was with Paul. She'll think she's got me beat, but really, I'll just be playing her game. Because I'm sick of falling into her game. I'm not defending her anymore. She never deserved it anyway.

"Arrested, infested, it's your collective... Coming off like you wrote the ten commandments..." "Idoless" by The Distillers.