the internet feels so weirdly convuluted now as opposed to when i first used this. now it feels as if each site or platform has a very strict purpose, adhering to ideologies of their own. i guess that’s how it is now. over ten years later from when i started using this (!!) i’ve thought back to this journal, this space, and the connections i made ( Read more... )

sometimes public. drop me a line so i know you've added me. i will most likely add you back.

 friends like bad anchors now. home is not a living thing. home is a grinding of teeth, silence in the backseat, silence between us all. home is resentment, home is your sadness home is all about her sadness. i am immobile here. i love it but cannot have it will not have it refuse to have it. refuse to have what i have had for so many years. i ( Read more... )

restlessness unlike before, smoke a cigarette every second. the fingers move to no sound, the mind moves to a sound that is deafening and crude. a thousand sounds not meant to be songs put together to form a song that should not be sung. legs bleeding because the fingers have no sound. mouth silent because a sound is too loud, a sound is silencing ( Read more... )

 jittering leaves cut slits into the sky. here, we travel 20 miles north to see a sky that is lit and glimmering. here we are faking so many things and by faking these things we are making known what we must have to be real. now i realize what the world truly is and it is my mind. no 'only' here because the roads in this world are endless but met ( Read more... )

 there is so much anger in me. it takes hold of my throat and my lungs and i choke on the lack of air in my throat. i choke on my snot and i choke on my tears and my hands grasp my throat and pull at my hair and for all this commotion only whimpers sound out. i hit my leg and i want to throw my phone out the window and i want to punch you in the ( Read more... )

 what i can't decide is which one of us is more pathetic

 my days do not move with the clouds. not wholly at least. in one day is split seven. in three days is split twenty-three. five days is only half of one long, arching day. but my heart still has knowledge of its purpose, and its purpose follows the clouds. my heartbeat puts me to sleep and arises me from bed. and the mind is unruly still, the mind' ( Read more... )

to want and want and want. and not to have.

 i will pick up your nervous habits. it'll take me a day or two to perfect them the way you have, over all these years, but that is all the time it will take. when you tap your fingers on the hard wooden table, they make dull thuds. you are careful that your fingernail does not touch the grain. it isn't a steady thud but one melodic, one of a song ( Read more... )