So, I made a myspace,
even though I promised myself I never would...
but whatever.
it's a nice way to keep in touch with people.
Add me if you'd like to
:)
www.myspace.com/celluloid_heroes

It's nights like these
that make me remember
just how great it is to be alive.
From anyone's perspective but my own,
what had just occured was stupid, pointless and typical.
But it meant something.
It was a memory.
It was a lesson.
All in all, it was a good time.
My eyes have been opened tonight
and I never want them to close.
I never want to forget.
Just live.
That's all I can do.
I'll be more eloquent tomorrow when I can sort things out.

He reeked of vodka and cigarettes,
but we all did.
After awhile, you start to forget it’s there.
The smoke had worked it’s way into his clothes,
like a second skin.
I remember the smile that lived on his face that day,
brighter than it’s ever been.
We lounged in the back of a strangers van
as people passed around what they had to give.
My hands were never empty.

Is it harder to leave
or be left behind?

I wrote him a note sometime last week.
Just a few nice words on a tissue.
It was all I could find.
He carried it around in his pocket all day
and everyday since.

He hates the telephone.
"why don't you ever call me?" I ask
"I don't ever call anyone."
But as we leaned against the lockers,
he looked at me and said
"Answer your phone tonight."

Every so often he treats me like a ragdoll.
He grabs my wrists, my hips, my legs.
Makes them bend or twist until he's bored.
Then he pulls me into him,
to make sure I know he still loves me
and that he would never really hurt me.