hooooy vey. I know that I really want to be a writer, and I'm lucky in that. I know what I want to do. But it's almost worse (or maybe it's a little less worse) than knowing what you want, but not knowing if you can have it. When will I feel successful as a writer? When people know my name. When I have books in the library and the bookstores. When ( Read more... )

I think I may have found something out about myself, but I don't know if it's true or an excuse? I don't know what it could be, because my personality is all wound up and spun down by spools of medications, three (or rather two) sisters of fate with sharp orange fingernails. Part of me wants it to be true, because it would make a lot of things make ( Read more... )

I should be grateful that my problems are all so unoriginal

had a dream ( Read more... )

hey there blondie
i just wanted to tell you i still love you
and ask if you'll still marry me on sunday, after church

of course!

When I'm in my element, I can be totally on. You can just wind me up and let me go and I'll keep it running. But when I'm not in my element, not with people I know, with people who are more professional or driven or anything, I can't do anything. I wander around awkwardly and don't talk to anyone because I don't know if they'll like me, or if they ( Read more... )

I'm looking for a cure for escapism. Not a fix, a cure.

there's something very enjoyable and indulgent in self-destruction, and a beautiful balance in perfect control 4 days a week and spiraling madness the other 3. we really can have it all, just not for long.

goodbye house ( Read more... )

I like days when I'm home alone. I wake up not tired, breeze past mirrors, eat donuts and watch X-Men or True Blood in bed. Then I do the dishes and dance around the kitchen. I keep busy to make sure I don't start feeling like meat stuffed into skin. Drink coffee, read, think about going to the library, rest my feet. Maybe even write something.