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research study
I need some help ( Read more... ) -
a rollicking rollercoaster
late january and it hasn't snowed yet. a masochist nears sublimity through pain. the greatest pleasure is in transcendence, in silent stereophonic synchronicity. -
the deception of appearances.
i called my mom during lunch. "my brother passed away," she tells me in her dry, matter of fact tone. i choke down the lump in my throat. i'm so far away from her and all i feel is the weight of my own mortality crashing down on my being.
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i called her again when i came home. "como estas, todo bien? te sientes mejor?" -- "si, todo esta bien."
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smile like you mean it.
save some face, you know you've only got one. change your ways, while you're young. oh boy, one day you'll be a man. oh girl, he'll help you understand.."
the reality of this existence pales in comparison to the bright night light colors of my dream fantasy imagination. in my arrogance, i thought maybe i'd be the exception to this cardinal rule; ( Read more... ) -
people always talk.
"Pay no attention to this, Makar Alexievitch; for the love of God, be comforted." - F. Dostoevsky -
Who are you?
What are we: poker chips or great men ( Read more... ) -
the wall is going to break me
i didn't think the adrenaline fueled rush of glorious euphora would subside so quickly; i feel cheated. i wanted the initial rush to last through the night. i barely made it fifteen minutes. as i am prone to, i jumped the gun only to trip on the hurdle beneath my feet. why do i always fuck them so soon? i really am terrified of success on any ( Read more... ) -
i'm on the pursuit of happiness
and i know, everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold. i'll be fine, once i get i - i'll be good..."
hands on the wheel? no, fuck that. i totaled my car last night. you wanted an original departure from the steady, tried and true line of romantic musings? well here you go, bitch.
i'd be lying if i said slamming into the guard rail was ( Read more... ) -
"shut up, stop whining and get a life"
borders. bookshelf. scattered. it was an accident. i didn't know. i wanted watkins. i'm in so much pain. i was hoping for nietszche. he wasn't there. i'm temporarily suspended above this precarious niche we call home. where are you? i found soren kierkegaard instead. "words of love". a soothing balm for torn spirits. right? -
i just want to thank you
for reaffirming my doubts and insecurities and casting them into an even more prominent role.
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i feel good. the satisfaction of seeing something through, start to finish, has yet to be matched by any semblance of romantic love.
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this could be the end. but it's just another beginning for me.