Va bene.

Sometimes I want to go out and buy one of those wooden plaques that has one of those weird ribbons and bizarre straw handle and smells oddly of a familiar scent you've never smelt before that says something along the lines of home is where the heart is, or there's no place like home, and just wear it around my neck. 

I don't know what I think I'll find at these hours

Maybe I just need to let lose...or something...

I like that home still feels warm. 
I don't want to ever lose that feeling, wherever home may be. 

I just have this overwhelming urge to break down.

I want to curl up in a ball and wake up when my time is right. Because it's not here and it's not now.  I'm so quiet and conscious.  That's not me.  I want out. I don't want to be in this stupid house with people who barely know my name.  I want tea and blankets and for life to happen with me and not without me.  I feel like shit.

" I want to be
like the waves on the sea,
like the clouds in the wind,
but I'm me.
One day I'll jump
Out of my skin.
I'll shake the sky
like a hundred violins."

I miss The Fuzzies.

"Love? . . . Love? . . . Love is not safe, my lady Silk, love is dangerous. It is deceitfully sweet like the wine from a fresh palm tree at dawn. Love s fine for singing about and love songs are good to listen to, sometimes even to dance to. But when we need to count on human strength, and when we have to count pennies for food for our stomachs ( Read more... )