why why why don't you stop?!

fever dreams. i can account for that kind of madness no other way......that was much too intense and tempting. i understand, but i still wish you would just leave me be- for good. i've grown ill of your middle-eastern hoodoo.

"my feelings are out of controooOOooOool..."

it's not worth it. there is no ounce of goodness, hope, sanditty, in this sort of strengthy stressing. i physically cannot afford to keep it up anymore. don't think for a second that the great eye is capable of losing track of you. *SMACK* goes the vengeance/checking.

for once i'd like to be above discounting something wholly after the fact. that would make me feel so big, and so much better. that eased smile, you know? i have the world's worst examples.

i'm going to start this up again.....i'm going to try for the millionth time, i'm going to drown and dump it all out the balcony.....clothes and lights and bullshit out the fucking window. i'm not tolerating this shit's bloodletting anymore.

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.......................looooves

i'm at my best when i obsess

in bed all day now, reading up peaches & elliott smith with doom, gloom and disease.

he says: what makes you think you can say that? who says it's alright for you to write such nonsense?! EH!? i've got most of his texts saved. i skimmed them again today while waiting outside of the 711 down the street. chiiiiillllssss....

i'm really very ill. the leprosy has finally gotten to me....i'm oozing everywhere on everything all the time. band-aids, pills, water, mirrors, chipped nail polish, burning and stinging. headache. no phlegm (not yet, that is). i really miss my love.....and i need charlie home- desperately. and what's with that fucking parking ticket from l.a. haunting me still, anyway?!?! wtf?!

my god. he's driving me INSANE. i fucking dreamt of him again last night. i took someone with me to go meet him in a park.....but it was never discussed the time, the exact place, exactly where he was coming from, anything. and i was so disappointed.....but the rush wasn't at all the same....complete sabotage. good. i've got better strength in person anyway.

the only shame that could come of any of this is not ever using any of all that's been gathered in the past year. i have grown- exponentially so. it would be very sick for it to go to waste on no one, yes?

i've got a bit more writhing about to do in the meantime.

loves.

always concerned with plummeting virginity rates

from my experience, if there isn't good music behind it, it's not worth doing. and i mean anything- writing, reading, chatting, walking, sex, designing, laughing, dreaming. all of it.

today i feel very.....irritated. nothing is good right now. i couldn't even enjoy class.....

miscommunication is now the pinnacle of anything for me. it's too easy when i have no clue what i want. so, i'm going drastic. CELIBACY.

sigh. it's all just so grating....i really couldn't explain. all is a blurred mush.

girl's school.

a pain that i'm used to

pictures, words....ugh. i still think of him.

i need to focus on strength once more. i've come to the most obvious realization of all: no person can make me feel how this does. and if i already have that feeling anyway, why am i so persistant on having it from other sources? who the fuck cares where the drugs come from? just don't get caught with them.

don't touch me. send me no pictures. get down and lick my boot.

i'm so sick of being so false. i desperately want to return to my bug-squashed-between-index-and-thumb self. for this, i don't need anyone's help- only in the manner of leaving me the hell alone. thanks for nothing.

i am quite aware this is no good, but you must understand what i am in the midst of. this is cruel and utterly inhuman. complete paralyzation.

night

the soaring high or the crashing down

i am incredibly sensitive. hardly anyone knows this- only a few of those who've hit a nerve. it rarely happens, but when it does.......ugh. i am completely crushed and sob for days and sometimes weeks afterward. i've always tried to work on this- to thicken my skin. but now i'm realizing it's one of the only qualities i've left that makes me seem at all human, or even feminine. now is when i've got to decide if those traits are something i actually care to hold on to. that's a tricky one.

it really hurts me that i can't travel. i make only two trips into town a week now- and only because i absolutely MUST attend class. but on the brighter side, at least i have a car that runs. and if i'm too good to collect unemployment, i'm definitely too good to use public transportation in this fucking town.

everytime i hesitate or fail to speak up, i get a stomachache. fucking masochistic bitch.... why i cannot seem to be able to raise my hand and kindly inform my prof that i know he just made up a story about a piece of art to keep up appearances as the all-knowing history teacher, i don't fucking know. the worst pain follows with the loss of respect for him. can no one maintain integrity on this earth?

the more i listen to "shooting star", the more i wonder at how i am unable to remember ever meeting elliott smith.....how could he write so well of something he never knew?

i remember when my one daily solitude was reveling in all that text. now i hardly ever think of it. it's so very comforting to know i'm growing away from him this time.

it's more than good to be alone again. i actually feel the rarity of gratefulness. it's good to be alive and well and piss-broke at once.

love

why fight
you've got me roped and tied

honestly, a stalker would be completely flattering. i just can't be doing that right now.....i need a bit of a break.

all the homework, all the laundry.....the car trouble, the suicidal ex-boyfriend......foreign films, "un-dates", old friends (good/bad), bosses/co-workers, birthdays.....hisssssssssi'msobussssyyyyyhissssss

there's this new sheen to my face now. as if i've achieved a new level of evil- effecting my very aura. i am good for anything novel, as always. i can enjoy being bright for a bit. really, i thought it was all those pills, but it was just him. he was fucking murdering my mind. killing my will. it's so sick to realize people can effect one another in both ways. the swooning but also the crushing. i've read it many many times, but to actually push it onto others....wow.

my life has always been very balanced. you'd think i'd have many fears....but really, no. i don't. i am comforted at the thought. i can at least predict, in some hazy way.

i feel so drained.....but then somehow powerful. it's all bubbling up.....i am very....wiry now. slick.

happily, i'm back to dancing.

kiss kiss

i love you, let's meet

the problem with their kind is that they'd love anyone with hands enough to hold their slicked-up hearts. i want the one that would love ONLY ME and my horribly dulled palms. is that the most selfish thing you've ever heard? i certainly hope so.

they all have such a hard time letting me go. siiiiiiick........

i am more than beyond lucky men are not made of musical beats and poetry. lord knows i'd be dripping gonorrhea and whatever the fuck else the human body gets infested with after frivolously frequent fornication.

he's the only one who's ever understood.

i get so absolutely entranced and paralyzed at once that i lose my aural functioning completely. instead i gasp and gnash and wonder and scheme.....

i scream and pace when he's gone. but it's very numbed. i haven't had pangs since........june? that bastard. is it really so impossible to comprehend how one could obsess so obscenely? or do you actively seek reasons to abhor me so?

i mourn the single life every day for years.

admissions aplenty

i indulge myself in things NO OTHER SOUL KNOWS ABOUT. i just want everyone to be ok. if i have to burn in the deepest, darkest pits of hell being ripped to pieces for the remainder of eternity by blue demons and devils for this to happen, so be it. i just want everyone to be alive and well and good. the best thing- the thing that brings me THE MOST pleasure in this life is being left alone in my bedroom with my writing, my art, myself, my work, my THINGS, my music, my health, my youth, for hours uninterrupted without the threat of the phone going off or someone coming in or bills piling up or..... god.....the very idea gets me going.

my family is totally fucked. but they all love me. you are totally fucked. .....and you hate my ass.

my aunt drove up in her brand fucking new escalade, climbed up my stairs, dropped off some cheezy-assed china and a silver set, commented on how "clean" the apartment looked, and took me to dinner with my grandmother where she talked incessantly about her failed efforts to set up her home theatre in her million-dollar home. woe is she. fuck.

alls i remember thinking is "this is going to completely traumatize me" and then leaning in so far i knew i'd fall.

truck ditched me again.....stood on the corner of tulare right off from cos for about 10 minutes and was oogled by way more guys than could logically be possible.....picked up in a car that's neither registered or insured and near gasless to boot, got home and screamed and raged for about half an hour..................taken out by an angel who filled me with loose tea and shoved about 15 albums down my throat.....what a fucking day.

i fucking love you. ask anybody.

a million rosebuds

it's so quiet, only the sprinklers.

it says "christine de pisan" and "miniver & ermine". my history book drives me WILD.

today, i am old. 20 years......20 fucking years. one-quarter of the way through with this nonesense. i don't feel much, other than pretty fucking content with my loves. old friends popping up....making plans to hang out and reminisce and chat and love eachother....i'm really very happy. this is going to be a much improved birthday (over last year, in all that tumult) for me, i can tell.

anyway, i love you. just know.

kiss kisssss

detained, restrained

the farm labor vans pass this way in droves during early morning traffic. magallanes, garcia, castro. i catch eyes in all my orange glory like you wouldn't believe. i've found men more prone than women though, shockingly. perhaps notsomuch.....i have breasts, after all.

last night i lapsed into a piano sonata induced slumber. i was held while awoken into a state of half-conciousness and then slept until the much later am in that exact position. it is so kind to have been completely knocked out.

morrissey's is the voice of an angel. fucking undeniable. i own a classic "he saved me during high school" story. but now, i regret, i've taken part in the premise of rubber ring....dreadful, i know.

the moment it gets cold year-old wounds begin to burst and bleed. at this moment, i am all out of bandages. but somehow i manage to stumble upon plenty of lamb's ear and electrical tape.

that amanda palmer is something to behold. i find her quite inspiring.

i remember years ago wandering millcreek with my walkman and thoughts. those trees are so large and looming hiding ant hills, dogwalkers, young lovers, beer bottles, ditched sofas, condom wrappers. those were good days. my solitude was prized and my need for it indulged often. where have they gone?

experimentation i blame as capturer. some strange man tried to stop me from his car while i was returning home afoot. i almost wish i'd been inclined to press pause so i could have at least heard and considered his request.....whatever it was. does this mean his grasp has been a bit loosened? if so, now, to discover how to wrest myself wholly of him. this does not mean i've a lack of faith in the fading of him...it means i am uncertain, as ever-always i have been and remain.

and how it is pouring.