put on your red shoes

share yourself with me. we could be one.

2004-05-27T00:14:02Z

your mouth moves like a shadow, and i try to follow. you are there in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands, you are there sitting across from me at a table at lunch. you are putting in a different cd in the stereo in your car, washing the dishes in your sink, using your phone, sitting beside me on your couch, laughing between scenes, leaving notes beneath my door mat. you are everywhere, my love inexpressible, i wonder how long it will go on this way. you and i like best friends, like brother and sister, like two people who spend their day together and go home to try and dream about other faces at night.

i have been too sick to feel unhappy. for days my face has been the color of murky water, my hands unsteady, my chest burning like a torch each time i even consider moving quickly. physical sickness seems to mute emotional uncertainty. i rise anesthetically each morning with the intention only of making it through the day until i can collapse into bed again. making it through without faltering in step or getting out of breath or clutching ineffectively at my chest where my heart rages against its unyielding cage. this will destroy me first, the acquiescence of my fist-sized organ. i will not be claimed by prescription drugs or self-inflicted wounds, however i may try. i will die on a gurney with machines attached to my body, with defibrillating paddles making a futile effort, with tubes in my throat.

i am not giving into effort nor to reason. i do not sustain for the sake of someone else. i will continue because that's what you are supposed to do, isn't it? i will endure because there is something nameless inside of me that refuses to withdraw, an anchor that will not be raised. i will persist until medical technology fails me, i will learn how to love another wholly because it is the only thing in this world even remotely worth fighting for.

i feel strangled by your presence, my stomach turns over and over at even the idea of touching you. i have grown familiar with this empty feeling. i have kept the curtains drawn, stayed in bed with a glass of water, but i cannot refuse your fist that knocks on my door. we lay side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrists crossed, palm to palm. your finger runs along the inside of my arm, the ugliest thing i could ever think of showing you. i am terrified to be near you, terrified that i will end up falling in love all over again with the scar beneath your eyebrow or the curves of your shoulders or the way you say that I say "sorry" as though I'm from canada. when you leave, I stand on my toes to give you a kiss and you bow your head until your lips press against my temple. i am paralyzed with the possibility of our mouths colliding. "don't be a stranger," you say, float down the stairs like a ghost come back to haunt me.

but i would give anything to look at you without recognition, to pass you on the sidewalk and not feel a thing. i am in love with you, without intention; cursing love every night, wishing it would die its miserable death so i could spend a night without dreaming of your hands, the ring on your finger, your favorite pair of shoes. please don't do this to me again. i will let you down a thousand times more, i will make you cry, i will make you worry, i will keep you up at night, i will drain you, i will be insufficient, i will not give you everything you deserve, i will be a scar on your heart that will not heal. i want so badly to forget your name, your face, your taste. i want to move a thousand miles away until correspondence wears thin and we forget each other's addresses, i want to be a memory that comes up from time to time as you are staring out the window on cold winter days. please don't do this to me again, you can't do this to me. i'm still hurt and i'm just not ready yet.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

2004-05-26T05:50:10Z

PapaNolan1: gang bang when i get back!!!!

hahhahaha. i cant wait.

people all over the world, join hands. start a love train, love train.

2004-05-26T04:36:27Z

i am moving counter clockwise, sliding farther away from the places i want to be. i lay awake at night to regulate my breathing. he says he feels my heartbeat beneath the sheets. i am regressing. i become absent-minded, sleepless, quieter, sick. he is frustrated. "i hate that taste," he says. my throat clenches, an apology would only be repetitive. i need space, i say, i need time. i need to erase the first sixteen years of my life. i am afraid he will give up on me, though i am unsure of whether or not i will give up on myself. sometimes everything tilts to one side and my heart feels as though it will burst out of my chest, and i wish it would, i wish this would end.

but at least im making progress. he is finally gone and im finally able to express myself again. no more "i dont knows". coincidence? maybe, most likely no. but would i do it all again?

in a second.

boogie nights

2004-05-26T04:30:51Z

i am overwhelmed by words. there are days that go by without the sound of human voices. i am living in silence, i am waiting to be swallowed whole. i sleep, ignore the phone, become too warm, wake up with chills. what is it that makes me want to put my head down and cry into my palms. what is it that makes me want to fold up my heart, bury myself in the ground, stop breathing.

the last few ugly words bury themselves beneath this empty battlefield. i make it to the bed, the sheets are cold. the sky in this story is holding its arms wide open; the sky a synonym for death. that is how it happens; someone opens up their hand, another forgets.

If you don't get out of bed this morning, you will have to hold the weight of your sadness in a single breath. Your head against the window, you will watch the city weep with rain. Sometimes the whole world is drowning. Unable to bear the thought of anyone having to live their life so muted by being underwater, you assume the role of a saint, a martyr who stands up for their cause, instead, by remaining alive. And if a man can be saved if only someone bothers to love him enough, this is why you will live and love; this is how you'll wake up each morning, this is how you'll endure. Because you are not living for yourself and she is living because of you, who is taking care of whom?

we are taught to bury ourselves alive. we suffocate under the weight of identity. we survive by recognition, absolution; we feel because we have no choice. and when the wool is pulled off, we discover how easy it is to slip into the spaces of anonymity. we realize that without eye contact, the limitations become elastic. chemicals and brick walls and unconsciousness destroy the obligation of feeling. and when one has built their life above the things that make them hurt, the ability to feel becomes disintegration rather than reconstruction. the body learns how to take a fist in the face without flinching. the heart understands the safety in staying closed. the brain teaches itself to deny the possibility of unconditional love. cold, remove the chance of grief's warm breath. we surround ourselves with faces and words so that we cannot be touched. what happens when the lights turn off? what happens when the words slip into the margins?

did i ever tell you you're my HERO?

2004-05-25T05:05:54Z

in other words... let me just say thank you for tonight. it was exactly what i needed. something to take my mind off of everything and actually enjoy myself. even if i have to flash my friends to have fun, its a whole lot better than laying around at home. i want everyday to be like today.

SHOW US YOUR GOODIES!

my skin is getting cluttered.

2004-05-25T04:59:05Z

I am afraid to open my eyes because i worry that i will find my abdominal cavity is nothing but exposed nerves and muscle tissue. i am consumed with this; fear, dependency, hopelessness. what do you do when you know she deserves better? laugh. because i know i deserve better too.

i'll be fine. i'll look you in the eye and tell you all about the word "alone." you will hold on, as though you could lose me inside the words, and you'll kiss each rib and fingertip, you'll trace each angle, each bone, and our voices will sound so small in this empty room. you'll cry when i tell you about the sound of a bone breaking and the beauty in red blood on white tile and you'll cry when i pause long enough for you to remember things like swollen eyes and my hands covering the bruises and how impossible it is to breathe sometimes. and i will lie perfectly still beside you, i will measure each inhale and exhale. i will tell you that i can imagine neither continuing to live nor dying and somehow you will find comfort in that. you'll be thankful that it didn't work and thankful that i am still here. and this is where we are stuck.

sometimes all i am is beside you; anywhere else, i am a ghost that wanders through city streets and classrooms and workplaces. i am a body with half a bottle's worth of pills down my throat, veins full of heroin, lungs filled with smoke. and i can talk all night long about everything you ask, i can tell you about the poison i've put in my bloodstream, about the hands that held me as a child and then later made me bleed. i can tell you about the weight of all of this sadness but it is nothing you will ever be able to carry, you will always be able to go home, the ache you feel will always be for someone else's pain.

i will be okay. i will tell you what you want to know and you will run your fingers along each scar and fall asleep with your head on my chest and one hand tangled in my hair. i will wake up before you, my face stiff with tears. my entire life spread, a melancholy tablecloth, over your palms. i will wake up crying; no affliction, just that you are so beautiful. you and your intrinsic beauty, i love you.

i had intended to be braver by now, swearing as a child that i would unsheathe my sword towards anything that threatened life's precarious equilibrium. but i find myself feeling as though i have turned all of the locks, pressed my back against the door and pushed my forehead against my knees, giving in beneath all this heavy armor. each motion self-deprecating, my smiles weak and unconvincing, my apparent exhaustion an impermeable barrier between myself and respectable interaction. each night i realize upon entering an empty, quiet house that i have been holding my breath all day, anxiety swollen inside of my ribcage. i leave each morning thinking about my next chance to be alone.

its starting to get very lonely.

2004-05-24T07:14:19Z

the walls swirl in around me and i shut myself off. lately i've been spending my time scraping the dirt off my skin. now i can live through my dreams, and last night i dreamt the sea decided to take me by the fingers and these carcinogous sun beams and all the snow that has collected your soul can melt away and you can be new. and i'm going to be there when you step out of your shadow. and the plane's not leaving if you're not staying. and the wind's not blowing if there's words you're not saying. and i'm not going to stand in this terminal forever.

you wake up and the ceiling is white and this is unbearably hopeless. hopeless, like a glass falling in slow motion from the counter and metal bedframes and a seven year old girl crawling out of a sixteen year old body and sobbing into a pillow. you lay awake in the dark and listen to sad music and you find no solace because tears cant mute pain. this moment of shallow breathing and only managing to keep one eye open is an equation of twenty four hours and three apologies and the boy's heart you broke and the constant reminder that ventricular damage is the kind you can't tape back together. a model of indifference, this is where your lion-hearted attempts towards resurrection yield to white ceilings. this is where you realize that faith is vacuous and hope is a deep red, you are the lonely protagonist who does not become the champion of the world in the last pages of the novel. this is where you lose the fight, this is where the hero curls up and dies.

i like to be alone, i like to keep the curtains closed, i like dark rooms. i like to read and drink tea by myself in the middle of the night, i like silence. but there's a certain point when i stop listening to myself breath in the quiet hours of the morning, when i stop thinking about how this inhale&exhale is keeping me alive. when i start thinking about the unbearable number of people i have lost. lost in a general sense, a spiraling loss of love, friendships i have misplaced and misused, those i used to pass on the street in the hallway every day that i can no longer recover. i start thinking about how many people i have ever spoken to and how many people i can't remember even if i wanted to and how many people that could have touched me and i turned away. there are so many lost faces.

i have been sick for too long now and it is becoming harder and harder to hold on to my thoughts. everything inside me has been frozen for so long and this sickness is creating a thaw, sadness is melting all over my hands and clothes and papers and blankets and kitchen counters and bathroom sinks. i hate feeling like this, like everything is unraveling and i am being torn into little tiny pieces and thrown out a window and i will stick to someone's shoe or fall down a drain in the street or dissolve in the rain and i'm never going to be able to pull myself back together. i am not giving up or pressing razor blades against already scarred wrists and i am not weighing my reasons to live against reasons to die, i am not hopeless. i am just sad.

i throw up, unable to agree with my stomach, daily. sit on my knees in front of the toilet and retch and vomit and cry because i am alone. cry because no one is there to give me a glass of water or a washcloth the way my mother did when i was little. i sleep for a few hours each night, cry because no one is there to rock me to sleep or hold me while my hands shake or to hang on to when everything slides out of focus.

i have felt nothing for months and now i cry too often. everything is impossibly blown out of proportion, magnified a thousand times through a dim light and i can't get a closer look. everything keeps spilling out and i try to keep it all in, this catharsis, i am so scared that it will end and i will not be renewed, i will just be calloused and dry and very far away from wherever it is that I'm meant to be.

This week I felt my life collapse.

2004-05-23T19:30:43Z

Numerous times. My universe collided, only this time... it didnt rebuild itself like it has in the past.

I have to get this out of my insides. I have to delve you out of my lower stomach with a fish-hook; youre wrapped around my pelvis and my hope steals all the great escapes I plan out. I wrap my jacket around my waist in order to stow away the pain. It sticks to the sides of my abdomen and it explodes in great waves like its shocked it isnt able to get out.

Some french writer wrote that instead of evil being inside Pandora's box, it was hope. Hope kills all advancements in us; this is the knowledge I have gained through all of this. I have not learned anything but the mere fact that I will die again, and again, and again, by believing it so. Id will myself to let go if youd just stop saying you need me. Youre my hand, frozen on my lips when I see you at the piano at night, in the dark, fingers moving carefully over ivory until you cant stop stabbing the keys like its me. And I die, again and again and again and again.

on Friday I got sent to the office for my Quasi shirt. (it says "Hot Shit" on it and thats not appropriate for school.) They just gave me some yellow girls league shirt to wear the rest of the day. I didnt mind it. But when I was in my counselors office she was talking to me and I totally had an emotional breakdown. It was really... I dont know. weird, to put it simply. I just started bawling and I couldnt even figure out what was wrong. I couldnt figure it out because I dont know. I feel like Ive lost myself completely. I used to write entries about how everything made so much sense and everything was just going well. Now its like, nothing makes sense. I dont understand anything. I havent been acting like myself lately. I feel like Im schyzophrenic (sp?). Ive totally regressed into how I was at the beginning of this year. The one person Ive always hated the most. and it erks me. because now I know that I cant avoid it.

history will always repeat itself.

im not trying to document my suicide

2004-05-21T03:44:57Z

He and I press our faces and palms together like I did when I was a child, eat cherry popsicles with jokes on the sticks (Where do cows go on dates? What do books carry when they leave home?) because it's almost summer again and we will soon be hanging out routinely, and still stupid, and still together.

At night I lay on the roof of my house like I did two summers ago and watch the airplanes land. and then walk to the little park behind my fence. I go belly down, head first on the slides. he and I used to push each other off of and force my face against the plastic to try and remember what he said that one night about storms and my eyes. I just keep coming back to the little reasons why I love you. I write this down in my notebook in pen; pen is more permanent, and permanent is something I worry about. I make my worries into lists now: letters neatly lined up in thick black marker. Growing old, it says. Having children. Grades. 8 glasses of water a day. Money. Feeling lenticular. Heart attacks. Kidney failure. Exercise. Sodium levels. Politics. Eating enough vegetables. Getting cancer.

Being permanent.

in other news...

2004-05-20T01:24:05Z

my doctor got mad at me for wearing 4 shirts today because he said it was too hard to manuever his stethescope(sp?) around my back. oh well. hes cool so i just laughed at him. then we talked about how much i hate school... not really the school part, just some of the people. he then told me if i continued to ignore the things he told me, i would end up on the ground in the emergency room with an excruciating pain in my abdomen thats 4 times worse than natural birth without anesthetics. that made my day about 3429849203 times better. i can now only drink water and lemonade and can basically eat nothing at all. hoo-rah.

my life has become fabulously uninteresting. i suppose i just don't have much to say anymore. lately, my time has either been spent sleeping or going on various adventures with friends. i can't complain. nothing is terribly wrong, yet i still find myself feeling down every once and awhile, although i am not sure why. these past few months have been ... i'm not really sure if hard is the right word. i just know that things will be easier once summer comes along and i can be carefree and happy once again. there's too much to worry about right now, and i refuse to let these things clutter my thoughts anymore.

oh yeah...
this man is beautiful. and im in love with his face. and manuerisms. and aura.

you only hurt the ones you love.

2004-05-20T01:13:53Z

Quasi last night at the glass house with alexis and travis. i had such a good time. i got kind of sick on the way up there though because i drank a PRO energy drink and i guess my body can only handle the novice kind, oh well. you learn something new everyday. other than that, we danced and sang and had more dance parties in the car on the way home. it was the best.

I'm here in the middle of this crossing, and I don't know where to go.

2004-05-18T01:29:05Z

I plucked the colors from underneath my eyelids and something in me collapsed into a black hole.

I will never fully understand myself.

I've developed something so corrosive in myself that even my tears feel like sulfuric acid.

(i'm not sad, just wistful)

And it's strange how people have suddenly wandered into my path lately. And it's strange how some people are leaving it. Change has suddenly dawned on me like broken clouds in an abyss of blue.

Summer is setting in and I don't know where I'm going, it's like there are so many arrows pointing in every direction. I have so many different outcomes waiting that I'm almost not positive I'm ready to begin. But the push and pull effect is something that has become annoyingly usual.

I'm really just looking forward to a trip to anywhere and long nights spent at the park when pollution taints the sky with greens and pinks and the yellow clouds look colored with a thousand chemicals.

Really, I can't stand this place.
The trees are wilting and the flowers constantly die.

Oh well, this week is going good so far.

Quasi and Sleater-Kinney tomorrow night. I couldn't be more excited.

my eyes are opening again.

2004-05-17T03:52:47Z

so i found this pair of binoculars with a digital camera built into them right next to the dancing flowers and talking catfish in my dad's cabinet of all that is awesome. i think he forgot he bought them and the tag said $450 so since i happen to like pricey things i decided to take them for myself. they are like spy binoculars. i love them. i dont have a very steady hand so most of the pictures i take come out blurry and weird. but thats the fun of it.

i wish i had a secret crush that i could spy on with these binoculars. and take scandalous photos of them when theyre in the shower. or when theyre naked and dont close the curtains. unfortunately, i have no crush. nothing and no one to spy on. i have no reason to put on fatigues and crawl around in the bushes with shoe polish on my face.

i miss being a kid. and being naive. and perfectly happy.

non-stop protection

2004-05-16T21:52:49Z

The sky was vivid with navy and grey colliding to make the atmosphere. It looked like it was going to rain today. Almost. I haven't felt the currents run through oxygen like I did today. It was almost surreal. It felt like my cells were finally exploding.

I've been avoiding people. For the sake of my mentality. My space, my capacity. Everything is crowding and it's suffocating me. I like being alone. Please don't take it personally, I've just had several epiphanies that have been channeled through the ups and downs of a prior week. Sudden realities that slam you against the wall and dare you to stand. I'm sorry. I just know that I want to be understood from now on and not assumed to be someone I am not. I only have a handful of people I trust with my identity and apparently the rest of the time, I just lie.

Three short weeks left of school.

Sometimes I wish I came equipped with a projector built inside, it would be so much easier to tell you how everything rips me at the seams and then sews me together.

I'm writhing with emotion, but my body convulses in surprise.

I have no motivation whatsoever, and I don't like it. I don't like how I get ideas and then they float away, never to be heard from again, or they immerse themselves deep into my brain and refuse to leave until they are written out, but my mind is so full and fatigued that I forget how to make my fingers curl around a pencil. My brain is so tired that I don't even feel like starting to write something because I know I won't have the energy to finish it, or it will just disappoint me because I can never concentrate on what I'm writing anymore. I make speling mistakes and grammatical error's and I can never think of synonyms.

I hate when I accidently fall asleep on my arms and then when I wake up they feel bruised. My veins feel gross.

Ben Kweller last night with Chelsea and Jamie. WAY fun. we danced and sang. and sang to eachother. and I dance attacked some guy standing in front of us and then he turned around and I felt like a molester. we almost fought some girl because she was ruining the show for everyone around us. overall just a really good time.

Note: Apparently I now wear a size 5 in pants. Please excuse me while I remove my stomach.

you never speak when were making love.

2004-05-07T23:13:20Z

Once we drove into the middle of nowhere at night; the air was dry and silent as it always is in May - silent to the point where we were convinced that we're the only two breathing in the entire world, but the toads and crickets were loud enough to mask all our words. (This place has this way of making you isolated and infinite.) I stopped the car on the side of the road, eyes sad and solemn, and he pressed his head into my chest. I remember closing my eyes for long periods of time while he spoke, inhaling and exhaling carefully, absorbing his voice and the faint smell of cologne and shampoo. There were these rushes of blood that would thrust my arms around his chest, he seemed so weak then, and we would stand there - in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of the world, arms and legs tangled around each other's limbs and bones as much as clothing and flesh would permit. We were awkward, and best friends, and safe. And then it hit me.

So we can eliminate false dependencies...be equals...love without obligation...

2004-05-07T00:00:00Z

"I start to cry, which I know he hates. It always makes him uncomfortable, angry. He thinks it's manipulative. But I can't help it, because I realize now that I don't know what the point of this argument is.
None of it seems right. Nothing makes sense. I can admit to nothing and I am in complete despair.
And now I don't know what to think. What am I saying? What's he saying? We sit in the room, not saying anything. The air feels muggy. I look out the window, and out in the distance the valley beneath us, a sprinkling of thousands of lights shimmering in the summer fog.
And the pain I feel is worse than any other kind of misery.
I still remember the first time I felt it.
His love was unequivocal. Nothing could change it."

I know how it is to be quiet, to listen and watch, as if your life were a dream.
You can close your eyes when you no longer want to watch.
But you're so scared you can't open your eyes, so you get on your hands and knees and grope in the dark, listening for voices to tell you which way to go.
But when you no longer want to listen, what can you do?

I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.

and if it takes shit to make bliss, then i feel pretty blissfully.

2004-05-05T23:57:32Z

I do not live through experiences, I wait for beginnings. To be born again and again and again. (Like you, the Great Pretender) A space clean and unbroken and level to itself and nothing around it. Untouched, void but not expressionless, fervid. I open to it because to start over you don't have to unfasten anything. You never have to say goodbye.

There is a man with paint covered overalls across the street, he does yardwork for everybody in the neighborhood. I imagine I am like him, a clean sweep while raking through the leaves, flakes falling into other yards.

well all float on okay

2004-05-02T23:31:58Z

we sit behind ourselves when we talk about death. we dont pretend to be afraid, we don't pretend to know the facts of the matter, the feeling just before. there is a table spread infinitely out infront of us. you say you almost died once. i laugh at first, but you don't understand, and so i ask you how. but it doesnt concern you anymore. you say you want to know where my laughter comes from. how do i make it come from my mouth so easily. it's like a punctuation, you speak of it now as if it were written on a piece of paper. like an exclamation point. you add so much joy. we are talking about death and laughter. we arent talking about graves or bodies or bones. we are talking about the peace within ourselves. the place we go. the corners of our interiors. the smallest pains. i stop to take a breath and you supercede that spot where my voice once lived. i see you come back from where you'd sunk back into listening. you continue where i left my ideas of eternal. people with cigarettes walk by. in my mind i begin to write this thought of how our words are not symphonies starting and ending in the same place. our words are not the way we live our lives, or the ways we can look at the scars on our bodies in the mirror and smile and say, these are all roads i've walked. these are all things i love. we are only ticking off time now. we are only tracing our steps back through the alley ways, and kicking the cans. we talk about death not as if it is an eventuality, but instead as if it is here already. as if we are about to step into it like a puddle, or a door way. this is the place i hope i go when i die. back through all of the discussions of good, of bad, of who we've been and what we've done and of what has brought us to this door we now stand at. i hope i go back past the hunger and boxes stuffed with memories. i hope i go to these words, to this light, this separate-from-myself place, where i laugh when someone says they almost died once. i hope i go to a place where i can laugh. where i can take the chaos into my stomach and make something of it. where i can look through it, like a window or a keyhole. i hope i can remember who i was and be okay with the eventuality that lives in my blood and traipses back past every start and stop, all the way to the beginning.

i remember finding poems
in your words
now i can't find hellos

so, its time for us to run.

2004-04-29T05:16:32Z

so often, people talk about how fast it goes by, and im inclined to disagree each time someone says something, but i never do. but i do disagree. my weeks go by like years and my years go by like millenia.

i cant wait two more years.

so april has gone by like 28 weeks of bad weather and waiting for the summer to come that goes by with weeks functioning as hours and months as days. three days of summer that i'm hoping to check off every item on a list of things to do: skinny dip (find me a creek and i'm there, courtney), go to places with scenery (i've already got a couple lined up), and get some shit accomplished.

i have trouble with staying in the same tense.

my love floated upon the sea as sails. the seagulls sung in morning prayer, their wings as wind and the tides as air. i threw the anchor into the ocean not realizing my heart was attached. i will cast a line in hopes of your heart finding mine.

how 'bout them deep friend fetus'?

2004-04-29T05:12:39Z

haha. so today we were all talking and we've decided that if you have an abortion, you must go to the doctor and ask for your fetus out of the vaccuum so you can take it home in a little jar and fry it up for dinner.
having an abortion= eating baby for dinner. the end.
... now i really want to know what a little fetus would taste like?? haha.

i am your shadow in the dark. i have your blood inside my heart.

2004-04-29T01:40:21Z

"In those early months, we clung to each other with a rather silly desperation, because, in spite of anything anyone could say, there was nothing that really prevented us from seeing one another. With imagined tragedy hovering over us, we became inseperable, two halves creating the whole: yin and yang. I was a victim to his hero. I was always in danger and he was always rescuing me. I would fall and he would lift me up. It was exhilarating and draining. The emotional effect of saving and being saved was addicting to both of us. And that, as much as anything we ever did in bed, was how we made love to eachother: conjoined where my weaknesses needed protection.

...And then it was as if something had snapped in him... This was such a big leap in logic, between what I said and what he said, that I thought we were like two people standing apart on separate mountain peaks, recklessly leaning forward to throw stones at one another, unaware of the dangerous chasm that separated us.

...Ever since he's been gone, I've been thinking, even if I had expected it, even if I had known what I was going to do with my life, it still would have knocked the wind out of me. When something that violent hits you, you can't help but lose your balance and fall. And after you pick yourself up, you realize you can't trust anybody to save you- not your boyfriend, not your mother, not God. So what can you do to stop yourself from tilting and falling all over again?

...And later i discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow
you're in control. I found out the most I could have was hope, and with that I was not denying any possibility, good or bad. I was just saying, if there is a choice, dear God or whatever you are, here's where the odds should be placed.

...I think about our relationship, how I had seen the signs, I really had. But I just let it happen. And I think now that fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention. But somehow, when you lose something you love, faith takes over. You have to pay attention to what you lost. You have to undo the expectation.

...And after seeing my mother's dissappointed face once again, something inside me began to die... Before going to bed that night, I looked in the mirror above the bathroom sink and when I saw my face staring back- and that it would always be this ordinary face- I began to cry. Such a sad, ugly girl. I made high-pitched noises liked a crazed animal, trying to scratch out the face in the mirror.
And then I saw what seemed to be the prodigy side of me- because I had never seen that face before. I looked at my reflection, blinking so I could see more clearly. The girl staring back at me was angry, powerful. This girl and I were the same. I had new thoughts, willfull thoughts, or rather thoughts filled with lots of won'ts. I won't let her change me, I promised myself. I won't be what I'm not.

...None of our friends could ever believe we fight over something so stupid as a phone call, but they would also never believe that our problems are much, much deeper than that, so deep I don't even know where the bottom is.

...I just felt a little uneasy about something. And then about a week ago, it all became clear... And just like that, I started to think, It's just not enough.

...And before I even do it, I know I'm starting a fight that is bigger than I know how to handle. But I do it anyway."

"i'll be your accident if you'll be my ambulance."

if i could just hold on tonight...

2004-04-26T03:50:18Z

ive woken up miday twice this weekend. i dont believe this is the end and i definitely do not want to feel any better about it. sometimes i like the numb feeling of uncertainty and convincing myself of better times... by your manipulative ways which can not be catagorized in any less extreme then seductive and i believe you do to. please dont hate me if im wrong. our conversatons are too short anymore to grasp any real sense of truth. you will call me a liar and make remarks that we both know arent true because deep down were aware that i love you and yes vice versa. dont look at this as a lazy attempt to bring you back, this is only a plead of your time. i miss your ways, i miss your musical selections which by far outweigh any others. i miss holding your hand and watching you think about everything and nothing at all. i want you to punch me in the chest just so you could feel how hard my heart still beats for you. im not forgetting you and i dont want you to either. its still happening. i just hold that part behind closed doors because i dont want you to think im in need. perhaps ive looked at everything innaccurately but this is what i will go by until im proven otherwise. i want to give you attention, i want you to be happy, i want to climb out of my mattress and make sure there is a future. so much was shared and that can never be lost. please still want this somewhere inside, please dont give up. im not giving up. ive tried to occupy myself, but i just come back to you. pick up your phone when i call, tell me honesty, tell me you remember and youre not suggesting to move on because you forget. tell me the secrets that only a select few know so i know how much trust and comfort you put in me. speak to me about anything... just to hear your voice.

YOU WERE:
The only person ive ever been able to talk to every night of the week for hours on end, without getting bored.
The only person ive ever waited 3 years to kiss.
The person who made me love myself before i could love another.
The only person i ever cried over for 3 years.
The first person who officially broke my heart.
The person who introduced me to a song that changed my entire life.
The first person i ever made a box for so that i could rid my room of things that reminded me of you.
The only person that made every song sound like it was written for the way i felt about you.
The person who went from being the kid i loved to hate to my best friend to the biggest heartbreak ive ever known.
and The first person i ever said 'i love you' to, and meant it.

i still mean it.
but sometimes its better to end, than to mend.

wishing this could last. knowing that it cant.

2004-04-25T08:09:27Z

as i was sitting in the back of the truck tonight half-listening to the conversations going on around me, i had a revelation: everything is going to be okay. this is how things are supposed to be. you're supposed to be mad and hurt and sad and happy and excited and numerous other emotions all at once. it's okay for me to still feel this way about you, even though sometimes it feels like you could care less. life just seems to make a lot more sense when you're sitting in the middle of a vacant street with your friends... talking about the little dipper and trying to decide whether or not a rhinoceros is a dinosaur.

i dont know where i am. i dont know where ive been.

2004-04-24T23:29:07Z

sitting in his mothers temporarily abandoned home in her old rocking chairs covered by green cloth. I felt potted in this clean earth swallowing back the bitter tastes of our acknowledgement, growing into this racing heart of panic and blood shot eyes. holding my ankles with these knees tucked up to my chin in these pin stripe pants. I hid outside around the corner from his house because I wouldn’t dare go any further off his section alone. backing into this brick wall with my eyes welling into the decreasing moon, he came straight for me. It came to me when I was so fucking drunk, slamming our shot glasses onto the kitchen bench of liquor from his parents alcohol cabinet before returning to our beer in the refrigerator next to the popped champagne misted with the dark blue top stirred to the baylies. kicking my feet into the white flesh of his hips where my lip stick presses into him. knitted into their under toe snapping in this jaw line; crackling on the side with meat carved to the place ladling gravy. these insides were screaming make it louder and his fingers twisted the knob on an old cracking radio. their insight was pulling my artificial blonde out from the roots snapping at the weak points. this kitchen floor is in texture of tessellations of green with light switches on each wall centre pieces of old picnics; once bitten apple eating. talented arms, engaged dark gouging eyes played with me over the dinner table, glass topped contoured tactile. feeling the cold water flow from the faucet warming the exterior on these tendons. pulling through the keratin pulling faces into the mirror making doubles and triples on going being sandwiched in. it hurt. dirt under these nails he kept his stash with mine in my bag, i’ve been buoyant with out the inflatable arm bands magnetically wrenched to the lights over the city with jackets & scarves trapped in flesh.

...and ill take it anywhere you let it go.

2004-04-22T02:26:00Z

My days have consisted of: TV/VIDEO infommercials. Juergen getting me a bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Getting all of my homework done in school, not at home, ever. laziness severely hitting English class and handing in the same exact rough draft twice. The phrase, "Like molasses passing through the fingers of an old man". Yelling and screaming fights with my psychotic mother. Not really talking to anyone, and not really minding. Walking to the baseball field with an extremely conservative republican, a kid that goes by the name Meech, and an Indian whose favorite "holiday" was yesterday, and having them talk to me about how they play girls, which girls in their school are prude,and, of course, baseball. Reading Franny and Zooey. Wearing the same jeans for the past two days because I just don't care about anything anymore. Sentence fragments. Never eating lunch because I'm just not hungry at 12:30pm anymore. Having a brand new journal and not writing/drawing in it for fear that I will ruin its pages. Disappoinment in myself. Lots and lots of frustration. The new Modest Mouse cd that owns my life. Really really wanting to punch something. Crying. Laughing at things that are just not funny.

There is something wrong here.

i must have said i don't know just under 16,000 times last night.

what am i doing? i don't know.
why am i doing it? i don't know.
where am i going? i don't know.

i've always wanted to use the jello :: crème brulée analogy, and i finally got to, but then i said i don't know two or three times directly following it.

what don't i not know? i don't know.

... haha, that ones for you. : )