you don't get my sympathy,
hanging out the 15th floor
you've changed the locks three times
he still comes reeling through the door

one day i'll get to you
and teach you how to get to purest hell

you do it to yourself, you do
and that's what really hurtsyou do it to yourself, just you ( Read more... )

I leave Tucson in eight days.
A week from tomorrow, I'm driving with Alison to Boulder, then Omaha. Then I make the five-hour two-hour drive from Omaha to Des Moines by myself ( Read more... )

There is a good look that I wear ( Read more... )

Everything you do screams, I'm a sad, scared, lonely little boy. Love me love me love me. I did.
Silly me. Miranda the Messiah. C'est la vie. Je aime, je perds, je guéris, je grandis.
Why do I fall for men with such skinny legs?
Guess I must've decided I don't want to be your mommy anymore.

Two of my biggest heartbreaks in one night--and the girls they replaced me with. That's a little too much to stomach, even for me. I want to wipe them both from my memory and pretend that I never loved anyone.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it even possible to coexist in this world without betrayal and hyberbole and grudges and awkward silence ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

I said that you were dead to me. Guess that means I just saw a ghost.
That was harder than I thought it would be.

There once was a girl with hazel eyes. She loved praline pecan ice cream, boys with musician's hands, honest smiles, and ballads about unrequited love. Her reflection caused her great discomfort and she resented being told she was beautiful. It seemed to her an awful Sin to lie. Anyway, she was a delightful young thing, extraordinarily bright and ( Read more... )

My mom kicked me out. I'm officially homeless.
I don't know what I'm going to do for 48 more days.
I can't fucking believe this. I'm actually homeless.

she. punched. me. in. the. fucking. head.

update (6/29/05)my mom apologized for hitting me, as if such a thing were forgivable. she doesn't want me around anymore and i don't feel safe here. it's ( Read more... )

It's late. Well, no, definitely not. It's only 11 but I have to go to work in 6 hours. I can't sleep. Too much on my mind. I'm listless, uneasy. I think maybe I'm missing something. Or maybe I miss something. Or someone.
My mornings have felt routine as of late. I move through the motions like a machine. Smile, what can I get you today, espresso, ( Read more... )