Roadtrip

Whenever I get like this, I just drive away somewhere else.
Somewhere desolate and gray.
This is one of my favorite places in the world.

If you wander far enough, you'll find something.

fear: loss. lack of...hope?! RELAPSING

please please please
do not say it is hopeless,
rumpendum est cor illud,
or i will break down again
like i did in the parking lot two hours ago.

at least, if we are facing similar situations,
there are two of us in the same boat.
which is less lonely than i would be otherwise.

he said i should just roll with what i have,
and suck it up,
because starving children in africa
would give anything for my life.

i will only see the nice things from now on.
i will only see the nice things from now on.
i will only see the nice things from now on.
i will only see the nice things from now on.

One More Robot Learns To Be Something More Than a Machine

Something good happened today,
which made me forget about the shit going on around me.
It has taken so long for me to feel anything at all.
Before, I didn't understand, so I was bitter and cold.
I praised apathy simply because I was afraid.
But today I put my head back on the desk, stared at the ceiling,
and listened to that symphony of pink robots.
And I thought about how nice it was,
even though it will only perpetuate suffering.
However, after a lifetime of feeling nothing,
foolish delusions are nice.
You think I hate you, and your laments
of pitiful loneliness are so ironic, it hurts.
I'm glad that this didn't happen three years ago
or there would have been
major
problems.

Jill, I think you and I are facing similar situations, no?
I'm sorry to inform you,
it's hopeless.

"All that I want is something that I can't have."
How many times did I say that today?

Love at Balboa Island

saucy ghost whatsoever?

i didn't write the last line, which should really read:
"but with no discontent,
there can be no night's pleasure."

but this is what happens when you let things (like poems) sit out over night instead of refrigerating them...they spoil.

sean michael, you know how you said my face changes, when i see him?
it used to do that when i saw you, too.

I Didn't Get the Calculus Joke Everyone Thought Was Funny

West Soccer Field (3:34pm)

Girls doing suicides,
Geese gawk by the sidelines.

Wet earth and melting snow,
How far will my luck go?

I hate how in this school,
it's strange to listen
to Loreena McKennitt
and Tool.

This Is Why Everyone Hates Me

Today in English class:

(look at it full-size. i refuse to ink it. I REFUSE!)

i take my after-school walks alone.

♥

nimm' mich jetzt!

"when i grow up, i want to work at coco chanel.
i heard that in english class."

(and it is very, oh, difficult for me to write posts without saying something in another language. i have failed again.)

Broken Window, Footprints in Snow. I Don't Trust My Neighbors Anymore

If you go over the Line and behind the tracks, you will find the house where I once lived. It was squeezed amongst other house just like it; all seem to have fallen on hard times.
I lived with many other people, some whose names I knew, others who I didn't. I found one of these people's cats under a bush with open eyes. My first words to him were "Your cat is dead."
When I would sit in the lobby and look up at the bottom of the tub, and watch the water drip through the floor, I would wonder whether he would come tumbling down, tub and all.
At first, I used to wake up in the middle of the night when the passing train shook my room, but you can get used to almost anything.
On my way to school each morning, I would watch the young Hasidic men walk to the synagogue, case in hand, beard beginning to sprout, their charcoal shoes tapping on the sidewalk.
In orange pants Curtis and I stood against the fence and watched them play basketball in full black suits.
Their mothers and sisters played outside their house in dresses.
At night there were sounds of fighting, screaming, yelling, and car alarms. Sometimes it was ours.
But then we moved.
Now I go out at night. Now a mother walks with her tiny be-sweatered dog to the end of my street to meet her children at the bus.
Now I miss the old days.

This is practically the only picture I have from that time.
KITTEN CAESAR IS TOO GOOD!

when i'm sad, everything starts to smell like smoke.

i finally stopped killing myself,

because of you.

i don't know if i ever told you that.

but it's back now for no reason...

...maybe it never really went away.

i’m not really alive.
i’m just wasting time,
until i feel like i can live again.

i’m too shy to do the things i love anymore...

...so i do the things i hate.

i’m too shy to capitalize...

...because capital letters are too assertive.

tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

When My Dreams Start To Make Sense, I Start To Get Scared

I stand by the edge of a great lake, the lights of a city glitter on the other shore. A soldier lies on the beach beside me.
"Gasmask!"
"Gasmask!"
A yellow bud grows from the earth, and openes a sickening yellow flower.
"O! The gas falls like rain!
Get me the gasmask!
The gas falls like rain!"
He struggles, but cannot move. I stand and watch. His struggling becomes writhing, and he rolls on his back like an infant. His eyes widen, his mouth opens. The mustard yellow foam gurgles out of his throat like a fountain.
Then I woke up.

And it was 11am! School was closed and it was still snowing.

It is so cold and depressing where we live.

I want it to be Spring!!!

My mom almost went to the hospital.
Sometimes I get scared.

"Wait, don't you care I'm in the girl's changing room?"
"Oh. We didn't really notice."
"I guess I should go to the proper room then."
"Which is..?"

The Crescendo Always Makes Me Cry

ew. I know enough about your morning routine.

I should be upset too.
My mind is falling apart, and the hill beats like the Tell-Tale Heart.

But it's snowing outside right now.
I'm sitting on my bed... and it is so quiet.
It is amazing how the snow can silence the world.

Sometimes I wonder if my head will break
and I'll just fall into some fantasy land.
It wouldn't be so bad.

To myself I would softly sing
"Save me from the ship!"

I hope you fall and bury my sins

i am having a bad day.

some days are just bad.
this is one of them.

i hate the sweat dripping off my legs.
i feel like complaining about stuff, but i’ll keep that to myself.
i will find a nice picture to cheer myself up.

that is a cute little fuzzy baby koala.

i refuse to call those numbers in my phone,

so i can't self-medicate.

i'm on my period,
so i can't masturbate.

i suppose i'll just have to sit out my depression.
perhaps i will do so in a rocking chair.
that could be nice.

色即是空.

FUCK EVERYTHING

i took this in georgia.

“no, nigel, i will not be your backup waiter,” he said, bored.
nigel was still swishing the chocolate residue around in the bottom of the cup of cocoa he’d finished hours ago. he didn’t look up.
“nigel, i’m serious. look at me.”
nigel didn’t look up. “there’s a spider trapped in my hot chocolate, you know,” is all he said. there was, indeed, a little black arachnid swimming around, struggling as nigel moved the wet powder back and forth.
“what does that have to do with anything?” he said. he glanced at his watch. “nigel, seriously.”
nigel had his head on the counter now, so his eyes were on the same level as the bottom of the mug, and he could no longer see inside. so he couldn’t watch the spider drown.
“death by chocolate,” muttered nigel.
“pfft, please, that is so cliché.” a cello concerto came on somewhere, from some speakers, faint but audible.
“it’s the people who do everything to avoid being cliché, they end up being more clichéd than everyone else,” said nigel.
“i don’t have time for this.”
“then leave…please…”nigel pushed the mug at him. “and while you’re leaving, put this somewhere it can be cleaned.”
“i’m not your backup waiter, nigel. no.” then he left.
nigel was alone. he pulled the mug back, close to his body, and raised his head off the table. he looked down at the spider again.
“i spy, with my little eye, something dying,” nigel said, sing-song, softly.
“is it me?” asked the spider.
nigel laughed. “no, it’s not you.” he picked a spoon up and scooped the spider out. the spider scuttled onto the marble countertop.