waking up before my alarm
waking up before the sun
waking up before i'm awake
and staying that way all day.

and i no longer feel safe here. and i don't have a home. and i'm so far behind i will never catch up. and the ghosts in the chairs they sat in last night are still watching me in my skirt. and i'm never having them over again. and that doesn't seem to help. and you're gone.

God! I fucking hate it here! I fucking hate it everywhere! Could people shut up and quit being assholes for two seconds while I decide how to commit suicide? I can't dress the way I want even in my own home without being fucking analyzed. Fuck everybody.

Where I live, there are long strips of residential street left unlit by the city, where at night the only light is from a rare porch light or glowing window, or the moon. Tonight, by a nearly full moon, I biked down one of these ( Read more... )

half-empty closets and cabinets
a phone card that must find a new home
and lips he wouldn't have kissed anyways.

Last night I had two distinct visual experiences simultaneously. One was as veridical as usual, and the other was the same in every respect save one: he was gone. I was sitting in the same position with the same blanket, the tv was on, the cat was curled up on the couch...only he just wasn't really in front of my eyes. I saw him as if he were a ( Read more... )

...when someone on the bus calls you a freak.

He might as well have said, "You have successfully alienated yourself from dumbasses like me."

He didn't have to come here. Why did he come here just to break my heart?

i love his hands. they are warm and soft and sweet and perfect. i love to hold them. i love when they massage my shoulders, and bring me water when i'm crying. i love when they tickle me and push my nose like it's a button. i love how they flip the porch light on for me when i'm coming home after dark. i love how they fixed my bike for me. i ( Read more... )

Better than the alternative
Fifty-one percent of the time.