chain of fools

it's hard to believe my mind - my mind - can change so fast.

(it can, right?)

(i think it can.)



my favorite things i've written are usually the shortest. they are concise and get to the point.
example: "eyelashes"

your eyelashes informed me
that this world might be real
if only in that moment

or "five line verse"

walk with me, please, and if you are feeling
bold, you may hold my hand

i will miss missing you
but walk with me, please, and if you'd
dare, you may catch my eye

the format for this doesn't always work for blogger...so i'm going to pretend it looks the way i want it to.
it might be my favorite short thing.

___there is no
in words

(my bedroom clicks at nighttime and it's beginning to freak me out)



i am going to write with no inhibitions. i am going to set myself loose on this keyboard and let my late night mind take hold.

just let me be sad, alright? i know that you don't like it. but i don't really care about that, anymore. i am allowed to be sad. i enjoy it, in my own way. because it proves to me that i am alive. that i am human. that i am capable of feeling some sort of intense emotion. and i am allowing myself to be sad. i am listening to old music, old, old music from my past, to renew these ideas of distress. cut me to pieces, please. i would feel so much better about everything if i knew what was real and what everyone was just making up. i am naked in front of all of you, all the time, but never truly unclothed.

my head hurts and i blame all the water i drank. and i blame everything, everything, on something else, eventually. none of these problems are mine, anyways. i am sick and tired of holding other peoples' secrets. i am holding too many peoples' secrets. many of which they don't even know i have. and they are all trapped in a little pandora's box in my head, and i am so afraid that one day i will snap and everything told to me in complete confidence will spill out from my mouth into the air like a million buzzing bees that will only come back to sting me. but i hate it. i hate all of these things that i carry for other people. i would like to say it's not fair, but i'm sure that everyone is carrying their fair share for me, and i just haven't realized it yet.

i am so afraid to live sometimes that it hurts me. i feel so banal. i feel like nothing i do is going to be okay. what can i do that is new and original? what can i do to improve lives, to make people happy, to make an impact? i have intellect, and i want to use it to its greatest extent, but there is a black cloud hanging over my head that is preventing me from doing that. i have all of these brains and nowhere to put them. there is not a lot of motivation in my life. i want to feel socially fulfilled before i try to complete any sort of daunting task, and i don't know how to do that if i keep forgetting how to properly love people, and they keep forgetting how to properly love me.

i wish everything were okay, but it's not. it never is.
my problems are miniscule and not worth the time to even write them out.

i always mean to take care of them but never really get up the courage to step out into the world and do it.

there is nothing, nothing, nothing i can do.
there is nothing, nothing, nothing i can do.
except wait.
wait for nothing to happen.

i can't.
i can't do this anymore.

(it's what i always say, and never do.)


aching wrists

i watched a history channel special on christmas, and i've decided that, as an adult, i'm going to celebrate the old way. i'm going to go carousing, be a horrific pagan. of course, if i have children, i'll change my ways. but drunken debauchery seems like quite the christmas spirit.

sarcasm aside, i've been thinking a lot about things completely unrelated to holidays, because i never notice when the holidays come around anyways, anymore. and i've got a lot to think about. and i thought up this thought which, now that i'm thinking about it, is quite funny and in keeping with the fact that i've been reading a lot of hitchhiker's guide. (it sounds very douglas adams, or at the least slightly british.)

i'm terribly glad christmas is almost over so that i can go back to being properly depressed about the winter season.

and oh, isn't it true?

anyways, i'm going to go and live life a little and make everything what i want it to be, at least for now.


rushed heart

i was told once
that most men
lead lives
of quiet desperation

but i thought about it for awhile
and i think
that most men
of quiet desperation.

[and quiet desperation is what i have become. i reach these moments sometimes when i am just overcome with inexplicable sadness. there is no way to stop it. there is no one to call. i have to wait for the clouds to pass over. it could take twenty minutes, it could take a day. and sometimes, it frightens me, getting so lost in this desperation. afterwards, of course, i regain my calm composure of day-to-day living, but those moments are horrifying and incredibly alone. i do not know how to fix it. i could not fix it if i tried. every moment is turning into an internal struggle, fighting perceptions of how to live. i might not be able to hold it in any longer. i wonder if something is wrong here. and if it is, i will have absolutely no idea what to do.]


i always knew

i'm just not like you.

let's accept that and go home.

(i have found home, i think.
it's in cars and planes.
i feel at home when i am not complacent. i feel at home when i am going somewhere.
going away from somewhere.
watching the lights pass me by
and dreaming of what will never happen.)


to the edge

1. what i know
2. what i've learned

it is all an attempt
to grow up and out
up and out of all that holds me down

but at the end of the day
i am growing down
down and in, back inside myself

all i know, all i can feel at the end of the day, falls into categories of everything
or the incredible emptiness of never knowing the truth.

the song came five minutes early; but what's five minutes among friends?
(a lifetime.
a lifetime.)

[the time has been wrong in my posts for so long, so i finally edited it on this one. i probably won't change my time zone. i probably won't make it right in most future entries. but i'm just making note of that fact here and now.]


good morning.

i'm trying, okay? i'm trying for art and beauty to manifest itself inside of me. i'm trying to become something beautiful and artistic. and it's just not working out the same way i wish it would. soft and beautiful gets lost inside the fact that i curse like a sailor, that, on occasion, i just become one of the boys. i'm profoundly feminine, but not within the standards of modern society. i know the ancient, the sacred, the internal meaning of being feminine. i know the murderous aching of an empty womb, the idea of producing new and beautiful things. but i am also tormented by the known future, by what is good and normal and what goals are interfered with by just taking advantage of the current circumstances.

the emptiness gets to me, sometimes. everything stops inside my head, and all i can think about are the same words, over and over. and i feel so incredibly empty. it's sort of scary, but it's also intensely wonderful. there are some experiences completely indescribable to other human beings, and i think this may be one of them.

i know what i want, and somehow, someday, i am going to get it.

i want sex without marriage; i want religion without worship.
i want the world to open up to me inside my bedroom and inside my brain.
i want soft bodies at four in the morning.
i want to learn everything.

(i also want my dog to come back home. it's a shame she ran away.)


not to intrude

it's amazing how many different types of intimacy exist. there's the intellectual intimacy of sharing ideas, understanding concepts, having the same academic passions. emotional intimacy with our hopes and dreams, our very soul bared to another human being. there is the platonic physical intimacy of friends who can be close and not worried, of hugs and leaning shoulders. then, of course, there is the deeper physical intimacy of the sexual relationship, in which we share with another person something inherently sacred in ourselves, what emotional intimacy is for the mind, except for the body. but there is another type of intimacy often overlooked because it is so often paired with another kind, and that is living with someone. there is a sort of synchronosity of schedules, a pattern and rhythm. one learns how their housemates work, how to react to different situations. there is so much more awareness of a person after living with them. and no other types of intimacy are really inherent of this. of course, we are so used to living with family or friends that we assume that some sort of emotional intimacy is required for this situation, but it is not. so many people also assume sexual intimacy which, true, is a reason many people move in together. but it is not necessary for a living situation. many couples get older and live, sexless, with the same sort of house-grown intimacy they're known for years. they still know each other in a way nobody else can - the way they act at home.

i have found that this semester has been a profound learning experience about differentiation between all of these things. i wanted to find someone to live with that is not just a roommate, and i have. i will finally be living with a friend. and hopefully that odd state of living with someone is something easier to adjust to, now that i also have someone who i can talk to.

maybe love and marriage is just when you hit the jackpot, you know? and you find absolutely everything in someone. or at least you cross your fingers and hope you do.



it's easier, easier, easier to ignore.

it's easier to ignore sleep and food and life and everything physical and emotional and everything that's everything.
i want pure consciousness, and i have not found a way of achieving it.
i've reached a state where it's hard to crawl into bed at night; i am somehow afraid to go to sleep; but in the mornings, it is all i want. in the daytime, it is all i want. just not at night, when i finally grow alive.

next semester is exciting, with night classes and mornings filled with sleepiness.

but i must off to bed. i have to be a real person tomorrow, i do. and this requires more from me than what i am giving now.


i feel, sometimes, like i am disappearing.


mixed meter

nothing can really fall into a simple rhythm.

only music.
only music is timeless and steady and beautiful every time.
only music makes me swell and fade, grow and fall back down.

it is so unexplainably wonderful. i can feel what you are feeling because i can hear what you are singing. and i want to tell you i know, i know. i feel this way, too. i just can't sing it yet.

(well, the fact that i don't personally know the artists i listen to also makes it harder to tell them i understand.)



i want to be the bigger person in this situation.

(just not literally.)


spilled water

written in october 07, in the park i spent too much time in, when i had read too much d.h. lawrence and brought cummings to read for a change. and not much of a change it was.

i like to watch the
water, lying on top of
the earth
still, fragile
before it quietly sinks in
slow, slow
and makes the soil
grow, grow

i like to watch
you, lying on top of
still, fragile
before you quietly sink in
slow, slow
and make my body
grow, grow

of course, i realize now this is not as soft and pretty as it is rather creepy. and very much me trying to write like i read. the word choice is still something i'm not sure i like. the metaphor makes sense, but i'm rather ashamed that i thought of it.

but justification can ruin poetry.

pretend i never said anything.


i hear you loving yourself, too

i want to go on some sort of amazing fast.

no eating, no sleeping, no anything at all except for pure consciousness all of the time.
imagine all the thinking i'd get done!
imagine all of the things i'd say!

but i like sleep too much.
and besides, what fun is life without dreams; what fun is a body with tension?


one foot in front of the other

oh, good.

fresh air, clear mind, clean conscience.

and everything, thanks to logic and walks, is fine.


a box in the attic

song - elephant, damien rice.

i am lost.
all the advice in the world cannot bring me back. no matter what you say, i am lost. no matter what everyone tells me, there is something, something missing from their view. there is something on the inside that is so fragile and misunderstood. and we, we are so fragile. you do not believe me, i know, but we are so incredibly fragile. i am going to break us. i am going to break us on accident, and there is no amount of superglue that can hold us together forever. i'm terribly sorry.

it's just that your eyes looked so sad. i don't know if it was for you or sad for me, but i don't want you to be, either way. but most especially not sad for me. do not be sad for me. i can handle it. i can get through everything. slowly, surely. i will get through everything. because i understand on this deeper level what it all is for. my logic can handle everything; it's my emotions that will take time.

song - if he asks you that, jesse harris.

i feel so lame when all my emotion is held within songs. when i can't even accurately explain what i am feeling without quoting someone else's words. i make playlists for every emotion, it seems. and then i delete them out of shame. or i add, continually, to this one. this one that i am making into almost epic proportions. i just keep adding, and adding, and every time something happens, a new song is added.

i will admit, too many songs are sad and slow, sung soft and low, but i do not mind. i am fine, i am fine. i am fine because they are singing to me, about me, from me, inside me. everyone else's words are becoming my voice. i am giving everyone else's ideas new meanings. they all mean something so special, so secure, to me.

song - sunbathing, carey ott.

there is too much going on in my life, and i am avoiding it all. it is a terrible coping method, i know, but if i pretend like nothing is happening, if i am so passive, maybe everything will go away. i know it won't, but i can't handle this right now. i can't handle a single thing that is happening in my life. not even the most mundane, the most trivial tasks.

there is just too much nostalgia. too much holding on. too much regret, and too many attempts to never regret anything. people who say they have no regrets are just lying, or are repressing things. because you have to regret things.

song - a call to apathy, the shins.

(because new slang was already there.)

when i originally wrote this, i thought of "execution" as the killing of something, but i realized the word had a double meaning, and that chances are, most people would think of it in the other way. and that's fine.

it was an electrifying execution of fate
all parties involved watched with a feeling
of intense gratification
and a fear of the future

one slip, one slight miscalculation could send
the entire plan crashing to the ground
with absolutely no grace
and no backups

words can only say so much until hands take control
and the language, loud and unspoken,
shatters all silence
and breaks all hearts

all i want to do is live, loud and clear, the same way i see so many other people do. i want to show. i want to show you. and i can't, i can't. i can't show what can't be shown. there is nothing to say only because there are too many things to say. when things pile up, they become ignored. things should just happen gradually. but because they don't, when everything comes at you too fast, you just can't do it. i don't want to let go. i don't want to hold on. i can't. i can't. i can't. (if i say it three times, is it true? maybe i should say i can, i can, i can. but that just sounds like those old self-help tapes.) i don't understand why things don't turn out the way it seems they should. because so many things in my life are heading in a certain direction, and then take sharp turns to exactly where i do not want them to go. where is my good luck? where is my fate? it would make sense to do things the way they happen in my head. then the world would be fine, and everyone would end up happy.


song - redwings, guillemots.


which will

i am no good at insomnia.

i haven't listened to nick drake in a long time, and i think i've started a sort of binge. it's like a music eating disorder or something.

i don't want to go back to school; i don't want to have to deal with anything.
i can't deal with anything.

when i say i'm in love with nick drake, what i really mean is that i love like nick drake and feel like him and i somehow know what it is to live inside him at some points. although i guess i can't assume.
but i do, indeed, want to sleep with him. more for the victory of being that girl and for the intimate sadness we would achieve. sadly, i have no time machine. (confession: if i had a time machine, i would not use it for useful purposes, per se, but to go back and seduce certain literary, musical, and historical figures that i sort of have crushes on. all of them. from beethoven to alexis de tocqueville, from glenn gould to e.e. cummings. and, of course, nick drake.)

in conclusion

i made my life relevant to a blog post for once, instead of the other way around.


nothing to do

nowhere to go

i wanna be sedated.

(just get me to the airport and put me on a plane
hurry, hurry, hurry, before i go insane

i can't control my fingers
i can't control my brain.)

i wanna be sedated.

too much

i've reached the point where there are so many things to do that i cannot do a single one. it's pathetic and absolutely necessary.



i look at you
to see me


sleepless nights.

i woke up this morning sad and unwilling. i didn't want to go anywhere. i wanted blankets and warmth and the sleep i'd been attempting to find all night that never really came. i woke up sad and unwilling, and here i am now, a little better. the emotions have been dulled by friends and stark realizations, but i am still struggling with the waking world. mostly because i was forced to stay in it last night when all i wished for was sleep.

i slept, sure, but only enough to get one half-nightmare.

i stared at the ceiling. it was dark and i was dark and everything was falling in onto itself. so much was happening and i just caved in onto myself. i cannot do this alone. i cannot do this alone at all. i cannot do anything alone right now. i am helpless. i am not a child, that much is clear, but i am a helpless, stumbling in-between human being. i wish i could be independent, but right now, all i need is for someone to hold my hand and get me through this. i thought i knew who i was, but all of those ideas are washed away with every new morning. i thought i knew what i wanted, but every time i turn around, there are new feelings. i am destroying myself and simultaneously building myself into who i am meant to be.

what is this language? what is this life i am leading? what is music, what is love, what are words? nothing is making the same sense it used to. i need to wade through cold water, i need to submerse myself in emotion. i need a strong hand to guide me and i need to go out on my own.

"get me a person who isn't me...i don't belong here. i don't belong in this horse race."


the best things come from nowhere

i love you

i don't think you care



i'm terrible at showing affection!
i shouldn't be, for as much as i want it. i long to be touched and yet when i am, i don't know what to do. how to react. i'm terrible, terrible, terrible at it. and i can never initiate anything.

but maybe it is that i am longing for a different kind of touch entirely, from a different kind of person.


i hate the realization, "i loved you. i loved you, but i did not know how to love you."
it kills me a little.

"i love you."
"and i you."

(why can't i just say it?
why am i having such a hard time letting people know i love them?
i am not like this!
i am not a broken person!
no. i refuse to be lost in the ways of affection, to be silent in love.
and yet, i cannot build myself up to do what i feel.)

freudian slip

remember how having my first naked dream was a coming-of-age experience?

well, i almost had my first sex dream, but the plot was complicated and twisted, and someone walked into the room. (even in dreams getting walked in on is extremely embarrassing, especially if you're sleeping with someone who faked his own death in the dream, so that he shouldn't be alive, let alone sleeping with you, and yet there he is and there you are and there is the door, opening, and you scramble in a half-naked race to your bed, and he scrambles under it, and you hope desperately to avoid that awkward moment.)

it really wasn't a coming-of-age thing as much as i thought it'd be.
it didn't really happen anyways.

but it was my first almost-sex dream, i guess.


trust me.

if you had felt

if you had felt what i feel every time this happens
(every time. it's embarrassing and shocking and probably immensely psychological and physiological and a million other things that i don't think are even logical at all.)

if you had felt what i feel every time this happens, things would be different.
(i would be different, you would be different, and there would be a common understanding of grounds here. if i could make my mouth form these words, form much more than words, if you understood the simple poetry and aching of it all, everything would change. and by change i mean fall into the simple rhythm part of me will always cling to and believe as destiny and plain truth.)

i complicate everything, internally, unintentionally.


travel-time-travel machine

you don't know what happens between us!
nobody has a fucking clue what happens between us and everybody has an opinion;
fuck that.

i wrote her a letter in my dream, and i never gave it to her, and she read it. i don't know how, but she somehow read it. and she just recited it to me just now, word by word - she knows it! and you know why?
because i think our brains are creating this loop that is incredibly complex. it's not as if our brains are communicating or telepathy or nothing like that. it is as if we were evolving each step into the same direction. it's called PSR - parallel synchronized randomness. it's incredibly rare.

it's as if we were jigsaw puzzles, you know? and we're falling, falling into the...

you will never date her, okay? she will drive you crazy...and believe me -

no, believe me. she just asked me for a date in 20 minutes. i have to go.

(one of the sweetest, saddest scenes.
i will always love this film the most.)



not quantity.

feels good, doesn't it? to be awake and dreaming?


too many dreams

is it socially acceptable to just ask someone to cuddle with you out of the blue?

"hey, look, all i really want right now is you, me, a couch or a bed or even the floor. okay?"

i don't think that'll really fly.

nobody takes it as an innocent pastime anymore.


flying a kite

i feel like my head is a balloon.


personal new year

my one thought for today:

"thank god i was born in november."


hello, best birthday ever.
i'm so glad you were today!

hot showers, hummus, ESP, guitars, leaves/trees (grass), reading, sci-fi, dancing, hugs, trying new things, eating with my hands, chai, conversation, a room full of balloons, phone calls, family, friends, love.

i still smell a little like curry and a little like outside.
i'm smiling.
i love being loved. i love being loved and i love loving.


chaude pisse!

on occasion, my sole wish is to erase myself.

and to learn many, many languages.


structurally unsound.

there's just too much to deal with, and i'm caving in.

(for every step forward there is one back, and i am getting nowhere.
and yet i cannot abandon what i have worked on for so long.)


profoundly unethical

i google'd my roommate's prescription meds while she was out.

does this make me a bad person or a concerned citizen?


goal 3 is sex in zero gravity

it's days like these i know i'm a poet.
when i watch the wind, the leaves chasing each other in an orange frenzy, i know.
it's days like these when the soul of the earth manifests itself in something that is so much beyond words that it becomes words in my mind; i am a poet.

it's nights like these that i wish i were flying.
i want to be on a plane. i want to be on a plane flying into my lover's arms. i want to feel higher than the average citizen, like a member of the clouds. i want to feel that slightly nauseous, slightly sexual feeling that is turbulence. i want to be going somewhere, but perhaps not even somewhere; just going.

when i lie myself down, face in the grass, with a blanket of falling leaves, i know.
i am the earth.
my days are spent in it, i wish for nights above it.
i want an out-of-body experience.


it's another day!


were all in my mouth

i'd have danced like the queen of the eyesores
the rest of our lives would've fared well


but how i loved you

i came back to muskegon and it wasn't home.
i will go back to grand rapids and it won't be home.

i am feeling displaced.

people make me feel like home,
and i don't know where to start.


i'm super serial

this has got to stop.

(i swear i'm funny, audience. i swear.)

"oh, please don't clap! it's in five...you wouldn't get it."


mouth to mouth

there is more than one kind of resuscitation.

fitter happier

something is undoubtedly right here.

my bathroom is freshly cleaned, outside is crisp and cool, my hair is wind-blown and careless, my smile is genuine and dedicated to the joys of autumn. my breath is new and i am glad of living.

today is very much a beautiful, good, glorious day.


that was me


hold my hand
hold my breath

someone please give me the answers


there are some people i just want to hold.
put my hands on their cheeks, kiss them on the forehead. run my fingers through their hair, let them lean on my shoulder, sink into my chest. hold their hands, tell them everything will be alright. comfort them.

there are some people that i want to hold me.
to put their hands on my cheeks, kiss me on the forehead, let their fingers linger there. lean on their shoulder, sink into their chest. hold my hands. reassure me. comfort me.

i don't know which i want more.



i am no exhibitionist.

(i'm glad you think i'll be famous; it's really quite crazy how many people have started saying that.
although i believe you that you've believed it all along.

i kind of want to be famous, and i'm starting to think that if a lot of people think that...
it might come true?

oh, false hope.)


i am always love

i went to say sorry to the trees today. sorry that they were dying, again, for another year. and that i don't blame them, because i die every year, too. i also came to tell them that i might not see them again for awhile, that i would miss them. but i cannot sit underneath my tree when there is snow fighting me for the spot. snow will always win.

i went to cry, too, because there is nowhere here to cry. there is always someone. there is always the chance of someone walking in and having to explain yourself, having to answer the "what's wrong" and that awkward shoulder pat. i wouldn't know how to answer, and i don't want anyone to pat my shoulder. it turns out that the woods aren't even a good place to cry. i want to collapse in my bed in tears; in tears because there is nowhere to cry. i can't cry here because there are always people. i went home and couldn't cry because there were too many people. i can't be alone, i can't be alone to be sad.

when i went to say i was sorry, i fell into a thought, and i don't know what i think about it.
it happened with any sort of contemplation.

"the world is so beautiful, and i am so sad."

it escaped from my lips, a pale whisper, lost into the leaves before i could think.

is it really like that?

is the world really so beautiful, and am i really so sad?

you know, it is a very hard thing to be in love with the world. it sounds like such a beautiful thing, and people always wish they are. and i am. but the problem with being in love with the world is that the world is a terrible, terrible heartbreaker. it's that tragic sort of unrequited love when you know that you're never going to get it back in exactly the same way you are pouring yourself out. i am getting tired. i am getting so tired of this love. but i can't stop it. it's not something i can just control. i am in love with everything and everyone, and everything and everyone cannot love me back. and yet i go on.

i want just one.
i want just one to finally love me back in the same pure, undiluted, constant way.
and yet everyone is too different, and nothing will ever be solid. nothing will ever balance in the way that i try, so desperately, to enact. and i will keep living with my unrequited love for the world.


excellent conversationalist.

he called.
he called.
he called.
he called.

he called, and i wasn't there to answer.

so i called, and he wasn't there to answer.

and then he called.
and i was there to answer.

he called.
he called.
he called.
he called.

we are taking steps.

do i want to move forward?



i feel like this has happened to me a million times. i feel like this moment has happened a million times, me falling into you. although i know it hasn't.


this has got to stop, you know. you can't just walk up to me while i'm in the shower, exposed, fragile, suddenly wrapped in the plastic of the curtain, kiss me, and leave. and when i ask you about it later, you most definitely cannot tell me it was nothing. it cannot be nothing. it's never nothing. this has got to stop. you can't keep making these crazy gestures, use these crazy ideas, and tell me that there is no substance beyond the surface.


dreams, dreams, dreams.
for at least five hours after i wake up, they consume me.
these reoccurring characters consume me.
especially the ones i cannot place.


i don't know what love is

you can't blame me; at least i tried.

(who do you talk to when there's nothing [and everything] to say?)

[i held so many people in my suitcase heart]



i don't know how to ask for help anymore.


holy water

i keep having dreams, and this is no old news.
but i keep having the same dreams, over and over. too many times. so i wonder if my mind is trying to say something. if it's trying to push me.

but it can only push so far.

there's what i want on the inside, and then there is what i acknowledge as the reality of what i want. what my mind knows is the right thing, and what my heart is yelling, hands clutching the bars, attempting to escape. i know now that my heart is always my mind's captive, as romantic as i fancy myself.

i get so lost in the music sometimes, it makes me ashamed. it turns off and i am brought back to this harsh reality that i am not in a film, that i am not in control of this situation. i am no director. this car ride is not endless.

i poured out my soul to a microphone yesterday, and then gave it to the world. and i'm slightly embarassed, slightly ashamed. because now everyone can know what i am. what i feel. some of the deepest inner workings of my being. these things were my insides, my quiet practice rooms and silent ideas. and now, they are for everyone.

please don't break them.

hold them in your hand, and know you are holding the part of me i never, never wanted to show you.
and did anyway.




i'm not an atheist that laughs at people who believe.
no, no, i could never be. because i understand why they do. i understand that vital necessity for some sort of reason in the midst of chaos.

but i cannot believe what they believe.

i respect their faith, but i am sad for their blind stupidity. it's all so old, so archaic. these religions are out of date, and all based upon things that even their followers do not look into. if everyone were educated on the basis of their religions, if everyone did research, if everyone looked farther...things would be much different.

were you aware that more people have been killed in religious wars than all of the other wars in history combined?
it's tragic.
it's so incredibly terrible.
i cannot believe.

i cannot believe in a god who creates hell, in a god who advocates violence, in a god with anger; your god.

but i can believe in love, and i can believe in something. so i do.
to hold on to something.


new songs

oh, i was born in


unwarranted information

it's really odd, but when i'm hanging out under my tree at the park reading and listening to music and doing whatever it is i do, i always end up getting this crazy urge to take my shirt off.

i don't, of course.

but the sunshine and breeze feels so good on my arms and legs...why not on my stomach, why not on my chest?

(because that's wildly inappropriate. even if i wouldn't be doing anything that would make the situation rated r. it would still be ridiculously awkward and...wildly inappropriate.)

but damn it would feel good.



shopping carts

found this in an old(er) notebook. it did regress into second person about eight sentences in, but i accidentally deleted most of it while i was typing (i'm excellent like that) and decided fuck it, i'll write it up in first person. it feels a little more poignant in second person, so if you wish to read the original, something can be arranged, but i doubt anyone actually cares that much. (it's okay; i don't really, either.)

I am full of something I don't know, something I am trying to discover. I'm practically frantic. Something is pushing, pushing, and finally pull. I have no grip. Everything is falling, but it's not a new sensation. Nothing feels new even if I am completely immersed in newness. I have seen it all before. These noises are old news, old ex-friends talking to their joyful new acquaintances on their cell phones as I pass them in the grocery, paying no attention to me as I pass by and attempt to hid my rather embarrassing supply of comic books and fruit juice. They are fleeting. I am fleeting. Everything begins to feel small, much smaller than me and definitely much smaller than the grocery. Suddenly I know decisively what it is to be really, truly alive, and it means nothing to me. It's just another bag of apples to put in my cart, check out, and eat later when my stomach wakes up. Footsteps belong to thousands of people I've never been introduced to, but I already know. I only have to hear their voice to know everything about them, or at least assume I do. They are read like books, they are opened like doors that never did get that lock installed. And this is such a sad thing.


shtar twek: entapwise

so i'm a geek.

what of it?


elephants inside boa constrictors

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you - the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose."

("It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose...")

i have learned more from this book than i can say.

i am absorbed in books lately.


at times

"It's no good to get rid of your own aloneness. You've got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your aloneness and stick to it, all your life. And accept the times when the gap is filled in, when they come. But they've got to come, and you can't force them."


warm cheeks

there was a softness in being alone somehow undiscovered.
it sank into their very bones, it sank deeper. it fell through their eyes, down to the backs of their throats, into the pits of their stomachs.
it made them feel like small children, asking their mothers for medicine and a day off of school.
it was a sharp pain that made everything weaker.
and yet, there were no complaints. no one cried out to stop it. no one failed to recognize the ease of the transformation into complacency.
it felt good.
it stung behind their eyes, at times.
it hung on their hands, at times.
it sat on their chests, at times, and slipped its bony fingers around their waists.

but when it fell to the deepest part, the aching was numbed.
when it hit their minds, when it grew to soften all of their organs, when it had expanded even to their souls, this softness was unavoidable and freeing.

it was worth living for.

suddenly, they were all unafraid.

soft and unafraid.

(i miss writing without a purpose.
i'm going to start that up again, i think.)


flying potato chips

and he kissed me 'til the morning light, the morning light
and he kissed me 'til the morning light.

(and i rubbed buddha's tummy, and a homeless man came in to throw away a bottle of urine, and i performed the heimlich, and i took a million brochures for a resort, and life gave me shivers.)

it was an eventful dream night.



i don't want to be alone with you.

work in progress

i am never quite satisfied with myself. i have so many expectations of what i should be, of what i had always imagined myself becoming, that i am always, always unsatisfied.

i should be prettier and thinner (much thinner) and i should work harder and get better grades. i should sing better and i should be playing the hardest of beethoven's piano sonatas by now. i should have read war and peace, and i should listen to more led zeppelin and bob dylan. i should have fallen in love, and someone should have fallen in love with me. i should be able to read a bus schedule with ease and not need to bring a friend with me when i go to the city to make sure i don't get lost. i should take better pictures. i should speak french. i should write more and better poetry. i should be able to make more friends faster.

i should be a better person.

sure, there are things i am doing right, but i am overwhelmed by all that i am doing wrong. i am frustrated at myself for both having all of these expectations and simultaneously for not fulfilling them.

i just want to go somewhere that's different with someone that's the same.
i want to know what i really am, not what i look like to myself. because ego gets in the way of everything.
the only real way to know yourself is to lose yourself, and i've done that before, but i'm getting so caught up in things lately that it's not the same. i have too much ego.

cleanse, release, refill.


dream quotes.

"i would sushi marry you."


life of the mind

give me the democracy of touch,
the resurrection of the body!

(she didn't know at all what it meant, but it comforted her, as meaningless things may do.)



"what do you want me to do?"

"i don't know, maybe touch my hair or something?"



one, two, three, four
tell me that you love me more
sleepless, long nights
that was what my youth was for

oh, teenage hopes are lying at your door
left you with nothing
but they want some more

oh, oh, oh
you're changing your heart
oh, oh, oh
you know who you are

i was going to elaborate, but i don't really know what else to say.


you'd be surprised.

in context, all sorts of meanings can change.

i want to see what i can be.


illusory; complex

i need to take out the garbage. the little area in my desk smells like bananas. oops. it would probably be the peels that are just sort of hanging out in there. that's gross. i'm gross.

it got dark all of a sudden. you know when you're focusing on something, and the sun is out when you begin, and you lift your head and you're in darkness? it happens to me all the time. i get lost in things a lot.

i need a good cry. i don't need to cry about anything in particular, really, it's just that my eyes are telling me it's about time, and i there's a certain kind of relief that only comes when you admit to yourself you have a weakness and let it manifest itself in water leaking out of your face.

happy and sad come in quick succession; i'm never going to become what you became.

i've got 20 minutes until i have to share my room with another person again, and an hour after that until i need to be somewhere. but really, i don't feel like going anywhere. i feel like having someone come to me. or just going to sleep. or having someone coming to me and sleeping, simultaneously.

i wish i were funny more often. i try, i really do. but it just doesn't work out sometimes.

we talked and never spoke a word; she wonders who will be the first to go.

i'm obsessed with shuffling songs. i hate making decisions a lot of the time, and it's a lot easier to just flip a switch and let a computer decide what music i'll listen to. although i do skip a lot of tracks. i'll let the computer pick, but then i'll become dissatisfied and change it anyway.

if only i could press shuffle on life. flip through the options. if i don't like something, i just press skip, and move on. but reality isn't ever exactly like what we think it will be, is it? never.

there's too much to think about. i don't know what i want. i don't know what i want in the simple things, like the music i'm listening to. i don't know what i want in the big things, like what college i want to go to.

i do know a few things i want.
i want music, i want sex (don't even judge me; you do, too), i want sleep.
i also want to learn.
that is all my mind can handle right now, focusing on those things. add any more to the load i've got and i don't know if i'd know exactly what i'd do with it.

i don't know if i'll be able to keep up with my schoolwork. so what am i doing here, anyways? typing aimless thoughts into a blog instead of studying, instead of calling someone, instead of sleeping, instead of practicing?
release. that's what i'm doing.

and procrastination.

it's been a long week.
i want to go home.
home, not just to a house.
and so i've got to find it.



"it's like touching your penis with your left hand."

"i don't have a penis."

"but you do have a left hand."

(possibly one of my favorite quotes of all time.)


if i kiss you where it's sore

will you feel better?

(will you feel anything at all?)


single-minded focus

i need to find someone who will let me hold their hand for a little while.

and maybe rest my head on their chest.

it would help me breathe easier.

(i began rubbing my hands together in a pressured frenzy today, unable to relieve the tension fast enough. what i need to do now is touch someone else. their hands, their back. i need to do to them what i need done to me, to vicariously ease all of this in me. i need someone to touch.)


oral fixation

"hey, would you mind if we stopped at a gas station and got some candy?

i need something to suck on."

a lack of clarity

i am really exhausted, but i know i can't sleep. i've got stuff to do today. but...i just don't want to do anything.
well, actually, what i want to do is be around people. and just watch a movie and hang around and talk. i want people.

it's sad sometimes, language.
it doesn't accurately represent what it's supposed to portray a lot of the time.
when i try to tell people i love them, it just becomes a mess of consonants that aren't really saying what i mean, an array of vowels that can't describe what i feel.
"i love you" means nothing, when it all comes down to it.
there's got to be a way to show you.

i had a plethora of dreams last night.
each and every one of them taught me something different.


1. no phone sex

if i had known then what i know now...

i would have implemented stricter rules on our roommate agreement form.

such as hang up the phone by 11:30.
but if you're not going to do me that justice, at least keep your conversation away from the phone sex equivalent of softcore porn. (alright, i'm probably exaggerating, but still. it's unnerving.)
even if i'm lying in my bed and my head is covered with a blanket, i can hear you. i can hear you when i'm brushing my teeth in the bathroom, too - those walls are not exactly soundproof. i'm sorry, but we live together. if you're going to have private phone conversations, maybe use your cell phone and go into the lounge where nobody is at this time of night, or at least warn me so maybe i can hide somewhere.

i have to do something about phones and alarms and sleeping habits and just general rules of living with other people...
but i have no backbone.
and i don't want to hurt anybody.


astounding similarities

i just realized that i am currently living with the 18-year-old, female, non-catholic version

of my father.



satpreet, i am not afraid to name-drop.
i miss your hugs a great deal, too.
next time i see you, we shall run at great speeds towards each other (in slow motion) and then have a joyous reunion of arms.

josh, i actually am afraid to name-drop. i lied to sp. don't tell her.
when i hugged you yesterday i realized i am always the first to let go for everyone, always. and i realized i didn't like it. i just can't hold on, and i wish i could.

friends, i am out of practice when it comes to hugging.
it's quite sad, really.
especially since it's all i really want most of the time.


your heart felt good

sorry that i am always the first one to let go when we hug.
it means nothing, i swear.

except maybe that i'm scared.


i was still asleep

and he woke me up again.

laying underneath a tree yesterday, i just stretched myself out, and let myself back in.
as i lay there, the wind danced on my hands, just barely kissing me, touching my face, and i realized something.

there is a beautiful subtlety in living.
the soft light that sifts through leaves. a breeze that reminds you of the intricacies of your own body.
it's so easy to forget ourselves when we get caught up in ourselves.
i know that sounds strange, and if you don't understand now, you never will.

we need to consistently remind ourselves of who we are.
human beings.
afraid and beautiful.
witty and solemn.

we are everything.
and we need to learn to see all of these things in everyone else.
and i know it's hard; i know.

but i'm trying.

(the thing i missed most the past few weeks ended up being real, good hugs from people who know and love and understand you. human touch is so incredibly valuable.)


busy, busy, busy

he told me to

and i will, i will.

(everything is interconnected.)


head on a stranger's knee

i'm sure back home
they think i've lost my mind



some things are terribly hard to leave behind.

(but i'll come back and get them if i need to.)



i know now that no matter what, everything's going to be okay.

time is all i need.

and a lot of love.


no going back

i'm going to be kind of lonely and it's going to be my own fault.

i have already made the decision to stay in my dorm tonight instead of going to this big gathering of people. but a casino night? meh. i'm not into that kind of thing. i'd much rather just...i don't know. think about things, have time to process all that's going on. plus, i'm bad at meeting people. being completely submersed in all those new faces just doesn't do it for me. i need smaller group setting. i need classes. i need...something other than this, what's going on right now. i just need some time to think and be alone for once. because, i have a feeling, it's really not going to happen often enough this year.

but i feel sort of strange, sitting here in the lounge, people passing me by to go hang out with their new found friends, typing on my computer and being lame. i mean, it's my own choice, but i know that everyone is sort of judging me when they walk by. that i'm weird, or anti-social, or dorky, or that i haven't made any friends yet. whatever. i just take a while to warm up to people and to feel comfortable.

(i'll keep telling myself that; i'll keep telling myself that.)

i'm going to make a lot of choices that will make me lonely.
or at least alone; maybe not lonely.

it's just this whole intellect elitism thing right now, i think. and the fact that i feel really old and much more mature than half the people i am meeting here. i'm a terrible elitist. i'm terribly judgmental. but only really when it comes to grammar and behavior. i try to be good and understanding, but oh my god i want intelligent people who can form a good sentence and talk to me about the music i like and the movies that i love, you know? i want someone with something in common.

i want to be in a show. i want to act. really badly right now, actually. i want a monologue. i want performance again. i miss that.

i need to go do something else, but i really enjoy this outlet. but i'm going to go back to my dorm room, maybe read a little, write some on paper, do whatever i find to do. i have a meeting tomorrow, and eventually i'll need to sleep.

i hope i am okay. i have faith enough in myself, but i also know myself well enough to know that i can easily self-destruct.



i am not ready for this.

i realized tonight that there is a large part of me here. something about fate is putting me here, in this place, with these people. i don't know what it is, but i know that enough of my past, a good deal of my present, and something in my future belongs here. i am in love with this place in a way. i don't really want to leave, even though i'll be so close.

i'll be okay. i just have nerves.

but oh how i will miss you.



everything is fine.


they took three vials of blood out of my body and told me to wait one or two days.

every time the phone rings my heart races.

i need someone to hold my hand.
i feel sort of abandoned.
there is no one here.


found it!

"home is where all your shit is."


out there, it's cold.

sometimes, things are just too much to handle.

as happy as i am, i don't really know about this whole moving thing.
i mean, i'm doing it. there's no way i can get out if it now.

new house, and then to turn around and go away.

i just want to know where home is.
that's all.


scattered thoughts

i don't like being home alone.

the first few days were nice, but once the novelty wore off, i didn't really know what to do. i mean, i guess i could have done laundry (even though it feels like i am already constantly having to wash clothes) or done some intense cleaning. something usually gets in the way, though, or i get in some sort of mood that prevents any work from getting done.

i talk to myself altogether too much when i'm home alone.
well, not really to myself. i talk to whoever will listen, like those moments when you're in a conversation with a large group of people and you want to say something but you never know to whom. except i'm alone, so i sound pathetic and lonely.

it surprises me what i say, though.

i don't want to go to school.
not really.

i don't know what the fuck i want to do and i just want somebody to help me sort through all this baggage.

look, i will go to school, find some unsuspecting rich boy, and we will elope and travel the world for the rest of our lives. because i couldn't ever settle down; not really; and i don't want to have to work any bullshit jobs, so i'll be a sort of freelance writer, which will still be bullshit, but at least a little less bullshit than other jobs; he will like to kiss me and we will have pictures of ourselves swordfighting with french bread in paris.


it's not really going to happen.

(there are people that make me so happy
and yet
they are the same that make me the saddest i have ever been)


faux pas.

sometimes i forget my audience.

(sometimes i forget other people read this at all.)


oh, come on.

you knew the implications.

don't look at me like that.


blame game

i could say it's all of the changes in my environment
or the stressful situations
or all of the new things i'm being introduced to
or restless legs syndrome
or the amount of caffeine i've had
or the fact that i haven't had enough water
or that i've had too much water

but when it all gets stripped away, the reason i cannot sleep is clear.

i cannot fall asleep alone.

(at least not quickly and easily
without trouble, like the rest of the world)


or so i hear

isn't it funny how hearts look like two question marks?

i mean, granted, one is backwards, but still.

maybe it's just me.

(the universe has something to say on the subject)


looking ahead

i will never have to see apartment 109 again.
i will never have to set as much as a finger inside of it.
i will never have to see apartment 109 again.

and i cannot tell you how the desolation has begun to lift at that thought.


impromptu sound check

i need to be touched, held, held to standards of human physical contact that i have been missing (missing far too much), and i need to be enveloped.

i need someone to kiss me and mean it.

i want to love someone with all of me. i want to give all of me to one person, to hand over everything inside me and to have that be held so tightly inside his fist that it cannot be harmed from the outside, and so softly that he cannot crush it. i want to have all of me in you, and all of you in me. i want soft bodies at midnight, i want discovery and freedom, i want a hand reaching for mine.

this is too much to ask.

i don't even know who i'm asking it from.
i don't even know what i really want. what i really, really, truly, deeply want.
i think my mind, heart, and soul are all in disagreement. about love, about life.
i don't know how much of this is physical, how much is emotional, how much is fact, how much is real.

it's just that i don't like sleeping alone.
and my lips feel empty when i speak.

(i would have told you.
i would have told you.
i could not tell you.)



i want to be the one you want to wake up to.


simple mathematics

i want to tell you. i feel hung up but i don't know why.

there are a lot of people who need to know that, but for some reason it's hard to say first, isn't it?


but i gotta use words

[when i talk to you]

i am in a mood.

one of those moods where i feel incredibly turbulent and ashamed and afraid and twenty million things all at once. i have not been feeling well lately, and today has honestly not helped one bit.

i have this consistent need to be validated and it's getting annoying. i thought i was fine without other people; i didn't think i was this needy. but i am. i am so much. all of my inadequacies are piling up and i feel terrible lately. i need to have a good long talk with somebody, but i just can't do it. i just can't start that conversation. i'm not ready to tell someone everything i'm feeling - not just yet. i don't know who to trust anymore. i don't know why i don't trust certain people anymore. i am confused. i am lost. my relationships are floundering, but i don't think anyone is really noticing. it's all on my side, they are all my doubts. everyone thinks everything is fine, because on their half of the relationship, it is. because i am not telling them everything. because i can't tell them everything.

i just keep doubting that you love me.
which i know i shouldn't do. i know you love me, i do, i do. it's just hard to believe when i find it so hard to love myself.

i wish i did.
but it's a very hard thing to build.

i think i may need an unbiased third party to help me dig through everything in my head.
but i just couldn't talk freely with someone i didn't know well.
and therein lies the problem - once you get to know somebody well enough to tell them your problems, they become one of your problems, and therefore, you cannot tell them everything that's on your mind. it's a vicious cycle.

i know there's something bigger here than anything i've ever dealt with... and i don't think i can do it alone.

i have no idea what i'm doing.
and i have no idea where to turn.


pieces of tomorrow

you may hate it
but it makes me feel victorious.

(packing forced me to unpack my past
and so i decided to throw it all away)



it's very difficult to accept that one day, we will not see each other on a weekly basis. we will not talk every day. we will not confide our deepest secrets.

we will find replacements.

nothing stays the same.

i need you.
let us find a way to stay.

i find myself so confused about people, all the time. wondering about my relationships. i feel like i am not good enough, sometimes. but there is such strong love from people that i cannot ignore it. as badly as i feel about myself, there is someone that looks me in the eye and reminds me of what i am worth. i am forever grateful for these people. and i am forever sad for the idea of losing them. a few people i can handle, sure. but there is a handful of friends that scare me. they scare me when i think of losing them. i had a traumatic dream the other night in which one of my best friends died. it was the most emotionally intense dream i have ever had. i believed it was true, and it was really, really frightening. and, of course, it was all symbolic - i was afraid i was losing this friend. i was afraid of what was happening in my life, our lives.

i don't want this to happen.
i don't want anyone to be dead to me.

but i know i can't keep everyone all together for always. that's okay, i guess.
besides, i have had such an intense yearning for new people and new experiences lately that it only seems fair that i do a bit of a trade-off.

i have had an urge to talk to someone - one of those deep, idea-laden, burden-lifting conversations - but i don't know how to do that. i don't really want to call anyone with the "i just need someone to talk to" only to have them discover that nothing new is bothering me, really. that it's just the past, the same old problems i've been working through for years, just with new ideas on top of them. i rarely seem to have new problems. i just dig up new information and renew the old ones.

and again i am faced with the question:
am i really a burden when i talk about my problems with someone?
because i am that person for people, and i love it.
but i recognize that not everyone loves the same thing; others may not love listening.
do i tell someone what's on my mind and feel guilt, or forget getting it off my chest and let everything stay the same?

i don't know.
it is my most commonly uttered phrase.


no sleep


that is how i feel. that is how i feel. that is how i feel.

i haven't slept in a long time, except for those off-and-on two hours of confused reality.
although i did half-dream the most beautiful thing, and i know i will never be able to recreate that poetry, and it's heartbreaking.


time to admit it.

it's not really the same anymore.
we knew it was going to happen, i guess.
i just don't want it to.

[on a side note, i dislike drumsets at the moment.]



it is so fragile.

and how many times, when mom was turned around, have little kids smashed the vase with their baseballs, thousands of turquoise pieces and three flowers without a home?

truth: i would do very close to anything to make you happy.



this is what the summer is supposed to be about, right? having fun, and friends, and new friends, and good ideas, and everything silly and good.

i love being an accomplice.

i love irrational joy.



i will never be a hand model.



this time, i won't tell you. despite the sand in my hair, and the songs in my ears, and the thoughts in my head. all signs point to yes, but i will say no. i will say no for once, and it will be to myself.

this time, i will do something that is against everything that is bursting out from inside of me. i will deny myself the very comfort of what i want. because that comfort is not always necessary.

i'm still at odds with myself, but i will learn to come to terms with that as time goes on.


back again

sometimes i just want to look people in the eye and tell them

"stop talking -

it's what gets you into trouble in the first place."



please – all i need
is to be held tonight.

i am having trouble sleeping,
i am having trouble dreaming,
and i know you can wrap yourself
into me so nicely.

please –
all i need
is to be
held tonight.

i don’t even need you to love me,
only to pretend to (and maybe even
not that much) i just need
to be held tonight.

please – all i
need is to
be held tonight

because this music is old, and these car horns
aren’t music, but they’re old, too.
there is so much noise.
i just want to replace it all
with your heartbeat.

all i need
is to be
held tonight.

i need to feel the vibrations your chest makes
when you whisper, when you
laugh at me. (because even when you laugh
at me, you are laughing)
i don’t need anything but comfort.

please –
i need
is to
be held

(isn't it sad to want something so badly
and to know
you can't find it here?
someone out there has to fit.
someone out there has to fit.

this is all just a biological yearning and i'm ashamed to find myself romanticizing everything.)


how fitting

my 100th post in this blog was going to be on the subject of people, and how their inability to see themselves frustrates me.

but i don't want my 100th post to be my typical confusion of people's minds.

so i will tell the world -
i move out in 1 month, 9 days.

putting a time frame on it makes it seem a little more real
but it's still a sort of surreal idea.

oh new things, i cannot wait to behold thee

oh new people, i beg you to not disappoint me.



this is what i feel like most of the time.

because although she is the goddess of fertility
that does not mean she is beautiful.

(this post has been in hiding in drafts for awhile.
but hey.
if i'm going to be proverbially naked, i'll do it.)

my fortune cookie told me today,
"go ahead and be as sexy as you can"
and so maybe it's time to try? ha.

[don't think it was anything you did.]


the great bicycle adventure

it was a good day yesterday.
i took a little bike-tour of my town and it was a delightful, sunny, headphone'd, fresh, slightly sunburnt experience.
my legs felt a little wobbly after an hour of biking, and, honestly, walking down stairs was a little difficult.
and, in all honesty, there were enough bumps and potholes for me to have a bruise on my butt. it hurts.

i think people should bike more.
i think that i should bike more.

the proper playlist, the proper weather, the proper route, and it's as if a movie is happening, and the camera is in your head. it is a wonderful thinking spot.

it's also much better for you, for the earth, for everything.
let's all bike now!
i really sort of want a bike revolution. people were starting it, and maybe i will join.
i like the idea.


love'll be the death of me

oh, happiness.

you are elusive, tangible, and always sitting right in front of people.

i am very happy and content with being alone lately, and i am glad of that.
because it was hard to be alone for awhile, and i'm glad it's okay now.

but i still like people, yeah.
i do.


new is good.

we started packing today.

i am excited.


two, five, seven.

i am ridiculously tired and my thoughts are not processing normally and i would really like to just calm down and maybe think in more complex functionings but i can't really, not now, the sentences are all running together with terrible punctuation and i'm not noticing because i am so goddammed tired and so afraid to stop because if i stop maybe everything will stop and i will not be able to exist anymore

and how would that go over
not well

i am tired but i am more awake than i ever may be.



weeping willow

i must confess; i'm all to pieces.


fuckin puppets

dear little kids,

thank you so much.

all my love.

[i have learned so much,
and i am awfully happysad.]


for now.

it tasted like honeysuckle and the salt from tears.

for now are the words that haunt me, for now, for now.
because it is the truth, for now.
but later?
later is when everything may just fall apart.
but for now.

i really am sorry.



i took that dream out with the garbage today

i hope for the sake of the ozone layer that it is biodegradable


broken arrows

the sun went down, and with it the love we found
that's the way things are sometimes

(most of the time)

where would i be without my music and my friends?
it's cliche but it's the truth.


background noise.

everything is noticeable and dark once the sun is hidden, yes? you can see right through the trees out to the flowers growing around them. honeysuckle wraps itself desperately, clingingly, to the dead fallen trees and grows, sweet to taste and strange to touch. living here is only so long. living always is only so long, so unbelievably longer than you thought and yet you snap your fingers and where is the question.

maybe tomorrow will show a little more promise, the tomorrow that is today. maybe there is something singing in the trees. maybe the grass will feel like sunshine instead of coals. they are the same temperature but the texture makes all the difference.

i think everything is okay.
i also think that everything is going to be roughly the same forever, even though everything always changes, but it's all going to change in a way that keeps everything feeling so the same. so the same.

i feel like maybe sleep is necessary in this situation.



hey, man
my cat hates water/the way i love you
with an askew view
of the world;
in an
"i need it, but i
can't let it touch me"
sort of way.

(yay for writing poetry in the shower.
and remembering it.)


we start today.

it is so reassuring to know that there are other people out there.
and everything is not always going to be the same.

as scary as change is, a change of scenery will be delightful.
new faces, new loves, new ideas, here i come.

(but i will not leave you, my home.
no, no, no.
i can't leave you.
because i carry you inside of me.)


so many

freewriting but typing. (usually i write this out first, but i am going to type and see if it changes anything.)

my face is becoming a portal to tomorrow and i am afraid. i am afraid of what you are holding in your hands, it is change and am i not well aware of that. holy hell and holy god in heaven i am shaking trembling inside of myself, and you can't even see my one single rip in my cheek. where. that is the true question, a question of where. maybe of why. i always thought it was why but now i am thinking maybe it is a where, where do we feel happy and sad and alone and at home. i think it's silly; the concept of home. i think semicolons are ridiculous, too. but seriously, where is home? nobody grasps it for the longest time, i think. you can buy houses, oh, you can buy houses. big ones at that. i have a weakness for big ones, southern style, with balconies and porches and basements, brick or white, particularly. but just because it's beautiful and some catch my breath doesn't mean it's home. all i want is a library. that was my goal when i was younger - a house with a library, and maybe a music room, filled with instruments. but i am going to become what everyone else becomes out of their high hopes, and my library will be a little office with a few books in it and my music room with be my living room with a small electric keyboard instead of a baby grand. but i will take the grandeur and donate it to the starving children, right? i hope so.

the future is scary, sure, but it's the present that i'm becoming afraid to live in.

i don't know what to do with you, now that you are changing, and i am changing, and you have seen me being me, and i have seen you being different. "and we were doing so well." that's all i can think. that's all i can think, with this. i don't know what to do, i never know what to do, who to say what to, because it's so unimportant once i leave, even though it won't leave me. i can leave you, but you will always, always, always be there.

i can't escape anything anymore. it's all inside my head, all the time. and there is so much. so much. it's so hard to manage. i never bothered to organize it. organise. i want to go to england, so i can spell things differently for fun. organization, organisation. the right way, the wrong way, the same way. i want to speak and breathe and live a different culture so i can learn, so i can see what it is like to not be like this. because that's so important, to live outside yourself.

you don't care anymore about what i'm writing, but does that matter, what you care? you don't have to be reading this. you really don't. and yet i still feel bad, that there are so many words.

night is hopeless, tears are exasperation.

hold me, please? but don't. i don't need someone to help me, no, no, i am stubborn. don't. i take it back. don't hold me. i don't need anything.

i need a backbone.
and i need sleep.

good night, my world, my bed, my ideas.


don't think so much

it's amazing how afraid people are of their own sexuality.

it shouldn't be that embarrassing to talk about.
chances are, most people aren't going to die virgins.
and for those who are, it's not like they don't think about it.

it's a natural thing.

but it seems everyone anxious to avoid the subject, especially in co-ed settings.



"Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction."



i don't know if i've ever felt so weak.



that lasted for about a week.

i just want those dreams again.

you know.

the ones where i am happy.



i went to see next year's school today.

it hit me like a ton of bricks, standing in that dorm room, that my bed won't be my bed anymore, that my bathroom is going to be three other peoples' bathroom, that i'm going to a small school and that it makes me feel lonely.

but i like the trees.

[i want to be what you think i am.
and i want to make you proud.]

i am just a big ball of "fuck you" right now.
not even cool.)


tired as tired.

i have no idea where i stand.

i don't even know myself, i think. well, i do. maybe too much. maybe i am so surrounded by people who are unsure that it is making me unsure in my sureness. i wish it weren't so.

there is so much unlove. i don't like it. there is so much sad, there is so much fear, there is so much pretentious, there is so much disgust, there is so much unlove. and i don't want it anymore. i don't want it for you, for me - for the dreamers. for the alive. for the lovers. for the fate.

i am loved, and i know that. and i like it. but i am discontent in it. i'm sorry, i am. there is something insufficient in the way i'm being loved. i feel alone in it, i feel asleep when i'm awake, i feel like i am not there when i obviously am in the middle, i feel like shit. there are enough people that don't notice me and don't acknowledge my love that it hurts what could've been so good. i'm sorry. i see all that i have and i feel so terrible for being stuck in what i don't have. but i am human. i am human, and i will always want what i don't have.

i want a fucking award for being alive, for being me. if everyone got an award for being themselves, it would be great. people would do it so much more often.

i just want someone to fucking notice what i've done. can you see it? i've done something big! something bigger than i thought. i graduated two years early. i was in shows. i sang. i danced (poorly). i've given away my heart. i've given away my soul. i've lost myself, i've found myself, and lost myself again. look at all i've done! don't you see me? do you even know me? you don't even care. you never cared, but you pretended to. but that's ok, i don't blame you. i've done it before.

i don't know.

i say that all the time; i don't know. because i don't. and at least i acknowledge that. that i don't know a goddamned thing in this world that is actually worthwhile. i went to school for years upon years to do what? i don't know.

i don't fucking know.

(i know why you killed yourself, i can see it, i can feel it, i can taste it in my mouth when i yearn.
i know why you couldn't do it any longer.

hanging on a star, right?)

i don't want to do this, but i have no option.
because i am too weak to do what i want to do.
deep down.

[it's different writing now that i know people are reading, but i just wrote this as if nobody would. so there you go. it's actually sort of an accomplishment, i think.]



I am too clumsy to hold you in my hands because I will drop you, I will drop you and you are so fragile in my heart. I am just a blanket of yearning laying over a lost soul, I am fighting to keep it but it'll be gone by the time it's open. Please save me. Please save me as many times as you can because as we know it gets trying and you can't just keep opening yourself into my arms for my sake and I'm sorry it makes you tired but maybe, for once, I'll save you.

You are going to fill me up with broken pencils and broken ideas. You are going to build me buildings of straw, give me tears of fresh water. I am not going to sing for that.

You're clever in your sigh. It fills a room, it echoes inside.
You're clever in your sigh and its imperceptible air of contentment.
But I can see the inside of your mouth
With it so wide open like that
And therefore, I know everything.



in my dream, i was naked.
i've never been naked, even in a dream, like that.
not in front of anyone.
and there i was, in front of hundreds of people, in the middle of a soccer game at a school i was attending, in front of everyone i knew, running around a field and telling people to be free.
to let themselves go.
that this nakedness was what we all needed.

i was myself.

and everyone was happy.

everyone was so happy that there was someone who wasn't afraid to run naked in a field in front of hundreds of people. to be raw. to be uninhibited. to be so open, so open about everything that you are just naked.


in front of everyone.

this is the most symbolic dream i've ever had, because this is how i feel, now.
that i'm naked, and that's ok.
because everyone understands that i am.
and everyone is going to join me, eventually, or so i hope.

[remember that time when we were talking about how afraid i was to be naked?
i don't think i am anymore.
which is pretty significant.]


ne me quitte pas, mon cher.

i can feel all the different pieces of you sticking into my skin.


loose change

(for now)

are you?

[it is midnight]


again, again.

there's nothing here for me anymore.

i am so attached to everyone and everything, but honestly...it was never what it needed to really be, this high school experience. there were too many misunderstandings, too many things that were hidden, too many things i shouldn't have said. too many changes.

i am moving and i am glad. i am moving away from so many things, but in all honesty, i am just moving on. onwards and upwards. if i lose you, i am sorry. but...fate does what it does. and i will try to keep you. i am going to try to keep you so much.

but you have to help me.

[i threw my head back to scream
and no sound came out;
my throat was stuck.]

i can't tell you my dreams because i'm too embarrassed,
but sometimes,
i get close.


in need of answers.

i've got that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach again.

i'm not, and i am.
i never was, and i always will be.

i'm losing what i've found and finding what i've lost.

i'm happy and i'm confused (i'm always confused) and i don't know anything anymore.

(i want to make good decisions.)



just when i thought life was something it wasn't, these people happened.

oh my god, these people.

thank you.

nothing's perfect, but you are all beautiful.

(there is a cactus sitting next to my fake-jade buddha now to remind me why i get up in the morning.
i am going to thank god for it every day.
it is symbolic and beautiful.
and a cactus, so it's also hard to kill, which is great.
it is coming to college with me.
i am thankful.)



you make me happy
when so little seems to these days

please stick around. please stick around.

[and i don't want to leave you, either.]



i don't know what to tell people anymore.

i haven't got words that sound sufficient, anymore.



it's getting so nice and sunny outside

[i hope i muster up the courage to open my blinds]

(it was an existential crisis, i think those were the words.
and now that things are falling, but falling into place
it's so much clearer and correct.)


feeling out loud

surreal living 101

i don't even know what's going on half the time
but hey, whatever, it keeps happening, it's all good

hey camus, is this your absurd?
i never did finish reading your book.

but i'm not a finisher these days.


what we want.

well, maybe not forever.



i really like doing this.
hopefully it doesn't get obnoxious to whoever actually reads this. (i never know)
i just found this and don't even remember writing it. strange.
sometimes i blank out.

Maybe the land is created or maybe it is fallen into the sea, perfectly, into darkness and recreation. Maybe the light isn't really light but an old fuse blown out to prevent ideas from exiting your tired old mouth. This taste inside my nostrils is too much for comfort, too much for fear. I am overcome with senses. with fatigue. but soft is the hand that sings of water, yearns for sand. Soft is the idea of love. Warmth is functioning as a vessel for our souls, you and me, on a boat of boats to deliver our message. I have an itch inside my brain but i am only capable of scratching as far as my hair. My cheeks, though, find themselves quite red, quite appallingly blushingly red always. I'm not blushing, just me, just always slightly pinkish in color. My ankles were crossed in the most malevolent fashion, like heroin, like a heroine, but nobody could tell. The skirt was too long to see anything but ten unpainted toes, ten signs of apathy and natural beauty. There was no hiding from it. Laziness is telling me to nap, but determination is taking hold of all I've ever told you. It's almost time, it's always almost time, we are almost free. Surge up and over, all over, and love me.

i only remember writing the word heroin, because as i wrote it i thought "wtf"
but that's about it.


come on, baby.

the world is only falling as fast as you will let it and the darkness in these eyes is only one step away from truth. it all changes in your breath when the wind sifts through all the good ideas, airing them out to be shown to the world, full, unafraid. these are our full hearts, our words of glory. How many times can one say they have done what they have failed to do? Never is a word we are slowly avoiding and attempting to recreate into something valuable. Please, hold my hand while i turn this world into what i want it to be. I am slowly learning to live again, taking the dust and building statues. Eyes open with sunlight and fear, and everything is conquered in a single hiccup's time. Maybe we are shaking, sure, but we are living in the everything of nothing. come on, baby, sing me a song. The trees are only so young and your voice looks so fine close up. Believe me when i tell you it is sunshine, it is warmth. I want you to know of my thoughts and i would like to climb into yours, explore, share. We are going to live. Come on, baby, play me a song, and I will sing, too. Come on, come on, come on, baby. i just want some music

[writing just to write and not worrying about what i'm saying is a great release.]



some days aren't yours at all
they come and go as if they're someone else's days
they come and leave behind someone else's face

and it's harsher than yours

and colder than yours

well, that's that.
prom was cool, and not cool, and whatever it was.
i'm proud of myself and incredibly ashamed.
i love people, and they love me, and i want to curl up in a ball and hide.
i am happy i went but altogether perplexed as to what prom is about anyways.
i overanalyze.
but so many good things happened to other people, and i am excited for all of them.
and prom-dram stayed lowkey. yay.

and i have learned this: i adore showers more than almost anything else in the world.



i'm wearing the sweater you were wearing the morning i was born. it's too big, sure, and i feel sort of silly...but i like it, the way i am enveloped in this illusion of home.

weren't you so excited, holding me in your arms for the first time, the first of what you thought would be many that never came to be...

i want to know what happened to that. what happened between those pictures i've seen of you, cradling me in your arms, until this moment. this sweater smells like home, but it does not smell like you. maybe it would if you were still a part of home. it doesn't even smell like my house here - but it smells like home, like "ah," like comfort. and where are you?

i want you to come see me sing, because you haven't. because you haven't seen anything. and i know that you're hours away, but you're years away. years away, a lifetime away. you missed so many things that most would consider so important...and you can't make that up. you complain that i do not make time for you, but have you made time for me, sir? i don't know. maybe you tried. i can't tell.

you've seperated into an idea and a person. there is the you that is you, and the you that i have imagined you to be. if only they could be combined, and i could be at peace with everything that has happened. but as long as i own this sweater, as long as i wear it when i get cold, there will be no peace for me.

i smell like home but i can't find it.

please come to see me sing.



"and you've got to admit it's getting better,
a little better all the time
you've got to admit it's getting better,
a little better
since you've been mine

getting so much better all the time"

the little holes will be filled with happiness
and songs
(whichever songs i choose)

[and i am so sorry. i am not insensitive - i am consistently at a loss.]


all baby birds

Look, there are a milion things to say, maybe even more, one never knows with my mind and the way it works (functions, operates, synonyms). It's a compliment and a blessing and a curse to be constantly confused. Always wondering (wandering) (lost) and there is no escape from it. There is light, windows, there is sunshine. Love begets love and all begets all, everything splattered in the sidewalk like a body thrown from a tower. The sun is spilling itself, commiting suicide from the top of every building to be covering the streets. We can smell it, feel it in the air, us and our magical prowess. We can feel everything in the air, now. Everything is soft and fragile when it flies, and I must be particularly careful of all baby birds. There is nothing more on that subject but there are more subjects than there are words which makes all this living business rather difficult. Let's just swim in the confusion to maybe balance everything out. Maybe we should just take really long naps every night because, as we know, I cannot cross my t's all the time, and when I remember I am happy. And when the letters can't match up, the words refuse to, too, and maybe we all just need a little more dreaming sleep to clear our heads like the sand. All images make one beauty.

(there is some crap in there, but also some cool stuff.
just me writing down all my thoughts for a minute or two-ish)


i will move you

i have been many, many things in my life
but one thing i have never been is fake.

i am truthful; i am just inhibited.

i hope my inhibitions never seemed like they were covering something.
there is nothing to cover, really.
i am just afraid too much.

but it is time to live.
i promise.



"happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing i know"

- ernest hemingway.





i am broken.
their faces break me.

i don't know what to do.


a young girl an an old man

she sang to my round belly
i did not enjoy it; i am so self-conscious
lately about its state of roundness
but she was young and didn’t really notice.

besides, it was the only place of me
that would make a good audience
what with her height and reluctance to strain her neck
and nonchalant manner.

she sang nonsense and giggly words about
what happened yesterday, and water,
and the way ants tickle her nose
and everything fine and beautiful like that.

i began to feel that although it was my belly she was singing to
at least she was singing to some part of me
and yes,
the ants tickle my nose, too.


his accent was thick
but his eyes were thicker.
i didn’t understand a single word he said,
no, i didn’t, but i knew what he was saying.

i am reading a book
openly, in the deepest brown,
in the furrowed brow and curved lips,
that is so very beautiful and well-written.

the wrinkles fall fast,
canyons that are so telling
of everything his eyes have seen
all those years, all that time, that wisdom.

his portrait is a story.
his eyes are an emotion.
his face is an idea,
captured forever
in your photograph.


nostalgia and such.

i wonder what the use is of thinking about the past.

it's gone, right? gone, gone, gone. and yet so many people are just stuck to it like flies.
i'm one of them sometimes, i'll admit. a song comes up or a picture flashes and suddenly i am brought back to people and feelings and ideas and everythings and nothings from the past. some of them are nice, some of them are not. i don't know what i want to say about this subject, honestly. other than that nostalgia is such a weird feeling, getting stuck in the back of your throat and staying there until you can find yourself unarguably in the present.

i've lost a lot of me, a lot of me that lives in the past. and when i get nostalgic for those ideas, i feel like i am somehow betraying myself and what i've worked for. well, i really haven't...no, i've worked for some of it. i don't know, i don't know.

i want the past and i also want to lose it.
like baggage.
like being a pack rat.
i want to keep it because i like it, but it's old and dirty and...not who i am anymore.

i don't know anything.
about anything.

i need to meet some new people.



i would rather be cold and wrapping myself in a blanket
than already warm.

this is what this vacation has proved to me.

(among other things.)

stories later, when i am caught up with sleep.


blurred vision

i am lost.

but not desperate.
i am smiling.



i don't know what to think anymore

so mostly

i just stop thinking



so leave the ways that are making you love
what you really don't want to love

...i'm sorry, but i have to.
i don't want to any more.
it's time, it has been for a long time.

i'm letting go.
slowly, surely...

"everything will turn out the way you want if you just stop doubting that i love you"
[and you know i always did
and always will
and that is why...things are going where they are.
because it's life.
and we aren't in a perfectly crafted plot, and i am not going to fall into everything beautiful.
i am going to have to craft it with my own hands, like i could never craft so many things.]

ever since my breakdown months ago i can't look at a clock in the same way.

i want to live inside your arms.
i don't even know who you are.


i smell of beach.

the two times a year i get depressed - the middle of winter and the fluctuating part of summer - are beginning to comingle and intertwine with each other.

i was the happiest i've been for a long time yesterday, and i will give credit to my "day off," which, i will admit, was lovely. hot showers and loud nick drake and wearing a skirt even when it's not sensible and the ability to do what i want - beautiful.


late at night my mind starts falling.

i can't tell if i'm depressed or i just feel sad frequently.
i don't know anymore.
i don't really care anymore.
because i am going to keep doing it, regardless.
i'm not going to do anything to change it, conciously.
if my actions result in that feeling leaving, so be it.
but i will not pursue it avidly.

[i want something to hold on to.
...but i don't know what.]