it's hard for me to get online. i don't know what i'm doing with this journal. also, i log in and am overwhelmed with how much reading there is to catch up on in friends' journals.

i am nearly gone.

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seven years later.


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i've never felt so detached from myself. this summer -- the drinking, the kisses, the drugs, the dancing, the working, the heat, the walking, the sleeping -- each minute feels almost identical to the last. what happened to the secret hours? what happened to the magic underneath leaves and in between flashes of lightning? someone offered me his ( Read more... )

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grass turns under
your heel
soft blades
against the hardness
of summer skin

i'd give anything to fix everything.

tossturnsighturntoss

are you awake?

grumblegroggleinhale

yeah. is something wrong?

can we please talk a little?

about what? what do you mean?

i need to think about something else before i fall asleep.

armshoulderchinchestsighcough

think about arora borealis
think about jump ropes
think about whalesharks
think about barn doors

think ( Read more... )

a breathtaking evening; a perfect moon and perfect roads, perfect trees and perfect lights and perfect bends in the road; a break in the forest and a manmade lake which expanded as far as we could see east and west; contemplating the comfort of calm water; sips of cheap wine out of the bottle; a band playing far away; an unexpected fireworks show; ( Read more... )