I am SO resentful of existing, the action of it. That's why I write to you in manic spurts. This time I'm not even trying to just be fucking cool.

I am in love with my professor - in fact, she is my only friend and companion these days, along with role model extraordinaire and inspiration for plugging along and letting myself love what I love, though in smaller, meeker, more ineffectual manners than I'd like. 
Her name is Marie, she looks just like Katie Rose except decidedly more preoccupied( ( Read more... )

I am sabotage ( Read more... )

I sink to lower and lower lows to prove to myself (success!) how BAD I am - to prove to myself that behind my baby face glints a solitary spark, an impulse, even, a wrong decision - JUST ONE - the root of it all. The disposition of Lucifer, frothing mouths and all. 
Why isn't my conscience dead yet? This is absurd.

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Jae, I miss you so much it hurts to think about you. You know, Jordan Catalano style.

I am still too ridiculous for words. Better, better, a little at best

This may have been meant for me, if I still had any genuine ME and if She'd bother, and my mother made me realize that my fascination with such devotions is almost parody - I have no faith, not in ( Read more... )

 I am not anything worth even the dimmest shade of expression offered in a misused blurb.I never want to think again because those thought things make me talk and make me as outwardly awkward as I have always sort of felt. But I manage to have periods in which I am someone and feel things and act according to SOME sense of order. These days I just ( Read more... )

I am more pathetically miserable than I ever imagined I would be again. I am selfish and completely unapologetic, and I hate the big IT (everything) but am not really progressing toward any sort of change.